


Who Needs Monsters When You've Got Skeletons?

by SchweenWinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 50 ways to exorcise your ex, Background Character Death, Bugs & Insects, Cannabis use, Canon-Typical Violence, Cunnilingus, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, FTM, Gore, Graphic Violence, Multi, Non-Graphic Violence, Oral Sex, Suicide Attempt, Trans Male Character, also uh, basically earning the hell out of the rating i've put on it now, dean being a giant baby, flagrant porking, ftm character, i miss season one when the winchesters were happy, no you can't catch me gay thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-08
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-26 00:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 21,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/959354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchweenWinchester/pseuds/SchweenWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arson.  Pizza.  Exes.  Dean and Sam head back to an old haunt to take care of some problems and visit an old friend.</p><p>Takes place around season one.</p><p>Loosely based on true events concerning pizzeria arsons in my hometown.</p><p>Please do not publish this work elsewhere.  My intention is for it to remain AO3 exclusive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Take Me Home, Country Road

The Impala prowled down the back roads of northeastern Pennsylvania, headlights illuminating a whole lot of nothing but trees and the occasional rock or badly maintained billboard advertising businesses that had long since gone under. The only real signs of life were the glowing eyes of animals just off the shoulder, eyeing the black beast of a car warily as it snarled past.

Dean let out a long breath as he passed a few familiar landmarks. It had been years since they'd been in this part of the world; last time they'd been in high school and had actually gotten stuck for over a month while Dad had cleared out just about every damn ghost in one of the fanciest, largest, and oldest hotels in the state.

 

> _First day at the new school, a big regional one that it was easy enough to get lost in. Dean's in remedial Geometry and drawing tits in his notebook while the teacher lectures about Shit He Doesn't Care About. Next to him is some chick with a fat ass and bad hair but a halfway decent rack, and she's leering at him and his drawings like some kind of freak. Later at lunch she calls him Losechester (about as creative as butter on toast) but sits next to him anyways. Her name is Dana._

  
"Man, I remember this place," Sam murmured, half-awake as they passed the swimming hole with its raggy tire swing.

"Me too. Remember when I almost cracked my head open jumping off the bridge that summer?" Dean chuckled softly.

"Christ. Yeah. Remember your girlfriend?"

 

> _A few days later Dana's got him in the tree fort behind her house. They're both mostly naked and grinding up against each other in that awkward way only teenagers can manage, his face pressed into her tits and his cock rubbing against her thighs. Her ass is jiggling slightly with each movement, but he doesn't really care. Hell, he likes it. He likes it when she digs her nails into his back and bites his shoulder, too. He reaches between her legs, but she stops him right when he's about to fingerfuck her._
> 
> _"Not there, Losechester," she pants. "Not now."_
> 
> _He figures she's got some weird hangups, and complies._

  
"Yeah," Dean said, a little hoarsely. "Dana. She was something, huh? Wonder if she's still hanging around out here?"

"No idea, but it'd be worth finding out. She was about the only girl you dated back then I could stand."

"You just liked her because she let you play videogames when we were over at her place."

"Her mom was nice," Sam shrugged. "And at least she didn't treat me like a disease."

 

> _Sam is staying over at Dana's while Dean helps Dad back at the Skytop Hotel. He's engrossed in playing Myst on her computer while she mutters over her homework. The power flickers- probably someone hitting a pole, or a squirrel in the transformer miles away, and he lets out a squawk of irritation as he loses all of his progress. She glances up, smirks, and tosses her pen at him._
> 
> _"Shit'll rot your brain and lower your IQ, Sam," she chides gently. "Let's take a break. You want something to drink?"_
> 
> _He shakes his head. "No, thanks."_
> 
> _There's a long moment of silence before he speaks up again._
> 
> _"So... I've been wondering. Why are you with Dean, anyway? He's kind of a jerk to you."_
> 
> _She shrugs and rolls her eyes. "He's cute. He's new. He's different. It's not like I'm going to spend more than a few weeks with him. I don't figure on settling down with anyone."_
> 
> _"How come?"_
> 
> _"I got problems," she says shortly, and that's the end of it._

Dean smiled faintly, thinking of Dana's attractively plush lips and even plusher rump. She hadn't been a beauty by any stretch, but she had been accomodating, and that's what had mattered most to his hormonally-driven mind at the time. The sex hadn't been great, in retrospect. None of his high school fumblings had ever really been particularly fantastic once he'd gotten more experience under his belt. Still, Dana had given him a lot of firsts, and he still thought of her fondly.

Maybe it would be worth looking her up again, he mused.

 

>   
> _Dana is draped over his back, panting and sweaty, her breasts pressing against his shoulders. The small dildo is still inside him, vibrating weakly against his prostate as he squirms in near agony, his body too sensitive for him to cope._
> 
> _"Dana, please!" He scrabbles for her hands, trying to find a way to get her off of him so he can rest. She moans, her hips jerking into him one more time, then slowly draws out, leaving him gasping at the sudden feeling of emptiness once she's gone. "Oh my god..."_
> 
> _She kisses the back of his neck as she unbuckles the harness. "Dean, you are so incredibly pretty when you cum."_
> 
> _"Shut up," he pants, face burning hot. "You swear you won't tell anyone about this?"_
> 
> _"Swear." She holds up a pinky, and he curls his around it._

  
Sam glanced over at his brother, noticing the faint blush creeping up on Dean's neck and ears. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Fine." Dean coughed, his voice cracking slightly. Yeah, he definitely wanted to look up Dana, see how she was doing. Would she remember him? Was she married? Did she run away to New Hope like she talked about?

Sam watched Dean's expression, a faint smile crossing his own face.

 

> _"Hey Dana, your mom says dinner's rea-"_
> 
> _She jerks away from the mirror, staring at Sam with wide eyes as he enters her room without knocking._
> 
> _"Get the fuck out, twerp!"_
> 
> _She shoves him away and slams the door, but he's seen the double layer of sports bras, the mascara moustache, the too-large men's dress shirt hanging open on her body._
> 
> _After dinner, she confronts him and forces him to promise to never, ever, ever tell Dean or anyone else what he's seen, under pain of getting his nerd face pounded in. And every time he sees her in the school halls afterward, she gives him a warily grateful look for holding his end of the bargain._
> 
> _He never does tell Dean. After all, he promised._

"Isn't that her house there? Looks like it's the same last name on the mailbox. Maybe tomorrow we can stop in or something." Dean glanced over to his brother. "And her mom liked us. Well, me, at least. Dunno about you."

"She kept feeding me because I was too skinny, Dean. I'm pretty sure she liked me."

Dean slowed the car as they passed the house, craning his neck to see if maybe Dana was outside, or in the window, something, anything, just any sort of sign at all that she still lived there.

"Fuck it. It's not that late. Let's stop now."

"Somebody's eager."

"Shut up, bitch."

"Jerk."

They pulled into the drive, Dean jouncing in his seat in anticipation. All he could think about were her breasts. Were they still unbelieveably soft? Had she pierced her nipples like she'd wanted for her eighteenth birthday? Dana had had great nipples, all petal-silken and coral-pink. Maybe she'd lost weight. He didn't care much. Hell, she could have put on weight, but as long as her boobs were still perfect, he'd be more than happy to hop right back into bed with her that very night.

Maybe she'd be happy to see them. Dean had filled out nicely since his gangly high school years. Hopefully she'd see it as an improvement.

 

> _"Your dad hunts ghosts? That's rad as hell."_
> 
> _Dean grins. "Ghosts, demons, all kinds of shit that goes bump in the night. We get to go around the country killing things that shoulda stayed dead."_
> 
> _"Damn. I'm kinda jealous."_
> 
> _"Okay, your turn. Secret for a secret." He coughs on the harsh smoke, feeling loopy and hazy and wonderful with her curled up by his side._
> 
> _"I don't have anything that great," she grumbles._
> 
> _"It's cool, just a secret for a secret. Don't care if it's dumb."_
> 
> _She considers things for a few minutes, staring off into the distance. "Sometimes I wish I was a guy."_
> 
> _"Pff. That's not much of a secret. Most girls I know do that."_
> 
> _"Yeah, but I dunno. It feels like I'm just... wrong, somehow. Fuck it. That's my big secret. Take it as you will, Losechester."_
> 
> _Dean snorts and giggles, kissing her temple. "S'cool. Hey, pass the chips."_

  
"Dude. Dean. We should just wait until the morning. She's probably gonna be asleep."

"Lights are on; willing to bet she's awake. Let's just do this before I change my damn mind." Dean sighed, turning off the car and opening the door. "I want to see her, Sammy. Not every day you run into an ex you left things on okay terms with."

"Maybe you don't," Sam grouched, following Dean up the slate steps to the house. "If she even lives here anymore- what if we wake up her mom? Or if she's got another boyfriend?"

"Then we pretend to be Jehovah's Witnesses and scram."

The door was the same heavy plank thing as in years past, though a few things looked slightly different. The paint was peeling, and the windows had heavy curtains instead of the cheerful machine lace Dana's mom had put up. The wrought iron door knocker was rusty, and needed some coaxing before Dean could lift it and give it a few raps.

A long moment of silence, and then the door slid open, revealing a somewhat cluttered house and a short, stocky man with a neatly trimmed beard gazing up at them blearily, reeking faintly of weed.

Shit.

"Sir, have you heard the good news from our Sa-"

"...Losechester?"

The man's voice was a soft, low tenor, vaguely familiar in some way neither Winchester could exactly place. Another long moment of awkward silence passed.

"Dana?" Sam was the first to speak. "I mean, um."

The man sucked his teeth, staring up at them. "You'd better come in."


	2. Here and Queer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's got a lot to take in.

Dean was dumbstruck as he followed the guy inside. The ass looked familiar. The face did, too. The one beauty mark under the left eye was exactly right. This definitely wasn't Dana, though. Did she have a twin brother?

"You look good," Sam said gently, breaking the silence.

"Thanks, twerp." The man smiled faintly, tossing them each a beer from the fridge. "You grew a whole hell of a lot since I last saw you. Still doing the ghostbusters thing?"

Staring. Dean couldn't stop staring, and he felt dumber with every moment that passed. There was something vital his mind refused to connect with, and he was sure it was very obvious.

"Yeah. We're in town for a thing we heard about, some vengeful ghost burning down all the pizzerias in the area. Figured since we were passing through, we'd stop by and take care of it."

"Good thing. We're running out of pizza joints out here." He noticed Dean's gaze, and glanced warily at him as he took a swig from his beer.

 

> _Dana winks over her shoulder as she slides into the swimming hole, her pale skin almost glowing under the full moon. He can see every fold, every curve, every stretch mark and freckle on her body, even through the cold, clear water, and by god it gets him riled. He jumps in, swearing at the frigid water as every part of his body tenses up at the cold._
> 
> _"Jesus, Dana, how the hell can you swim here?"_
> 
> _"You get used to it."_
> 
> _She wades in deeper, her breasts bobbing before her, then dives under where the streambed suddenly drops down._

Somewhere under the scruff, under the muscle and hair, under the deep voice and masculine mannerisms, Dean almost thought he could see Dana, and it scared him a little. He still hadn't said anything since they'd entered, too dumbfounded to do much more than watch. Sam seemed weirdly unphased, as if he'd gotten some memo Dean had missed.

That pissed him off, too, somewhere deep down.

 

> _"Hey, Dean? You ever kiss a guy before?"_
> 
> _He stares at her, red-eyed and wooly-headed from the wicked bong rip he just took._
> 
> _"Just sayin' it'd be kind of hot." She says it easily, as if she's been practicing it- she has been, but she isn't about to tell him that, and definitely isn't going to tell him why. "Kinda want to watch that."_

Inside, Dean was growling. He wanted out of the house, wanted to leave, wanted to say "fuck you" to the arsonist ghost and drive as far away from Canadensis as he possibly could. He wanted to drive back into the night with his memories of Dana still intact, instead of shredding them apart questioning everything she'd ever said to him to see if there had been something he'd overlooked.

Things were beginning to click into place down in the dusty, sweaty darkness of his memory. Her reticence about being touched, her forwardness with him, some of the questions she'd asked and things she'd implied.

His gut churned, and he stood, moving to the door.

"Need some fresh air," he grunted, leaving Sam and their host to talk.


	3. Fear and Loathing in the Poconos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Travis bond over beer, Dean tries to work shit out. Warning for misgendering and some gay/trans panic.

The silence grew unbearably after Dean left, neither man knowing precisely what to say.

"So... what're you going by these days?"

**"God-fucking-dammit, Dana!"**

"Travis." He let out a long breath. "So I guess you never told him?"

"Nope. You made me promise, remember? I seem to recall something about getting my nerd face pounded in." Sam tried not to smile. "I figured if we ever saw you again, you'd either let him know or it'd stay buried."

**"How could she do this to me? What the hell- how could she do this to me?!"**

"Thanks. I really mean it." Travis smiled weakly up at him. "I honestly didn't expect to see either of you again, and I figured Dean'd take it bad. If he gets his head out of his ass, though, you two are welcome to stay here. I got some free rooms."

**Dean pounded on the steering wheel in rage, his voice a rough bark as he vented into the cool night air.**

**"How the hell could she do this to me?"**

Sam flopped on the ratty old couch, accidentally knocking the antimacassar off the back. "Sure, so long as Dean's cool with it."

**His face contorted, halfway between a snarl and a sob. Some small voice inside him was asking him why he took it so personally; that Dana- or whoever she'd become- wasn't his property, wasn't his to keep, even with their history. He shoved that voice away and let out a grunt of desperate frustration as he slumped down in the driver's seat.**

Travis lowered himself to sit on the other end of the couch, and Sam swung his legs up onto his lap like he had years ago. It felt a little comforting, to see this overgrown kid he'd babysat falling right back into old habits as if nothing had changed. The tension began to slowly ease from his shoulders.

**Dean's body crackled with the sharp electric feeling of useless anger, the kind he knew was entirely misdirected but was powerless to stop. He had to get out of here and just drive, go up to the Knob and huck beer bottles down the cliff, just to hear the satisfying smash they made on the rocks below. Shoot something. Drink himself stupid. Anything, anything that wasn't lying in his car, feeling vaguely gutted.**

"So what the hell have you been up to besides playing Buffy?"

"Went to college," Sam offered. "Did pretty well."

"Cool. Where?"

"Stanford."

"Shit," Travis said, a little reverently. "Nice going."

**He was being stupid and he knew it, but he just couldn't stop.**

"Yeah. What about you?"

Trav shrugged. "Working on a Bio degree, bit by bit. Gotta support Mom, though- she went to a home not too long ago. Alzheimer's."

Sam went quiet again, but this time it was a much more comfortable silence between friends.

"You know- even if Dean freaks the fuck out, you're welcome to stay here. I know he's your brother, but I also kinda remember you liked having time away from his overbearing ass." Travis stretched, his shirt riding up and exposing his hairy belly. "Is he still a total pain like I remember?"

**Fuck it. He turned the key, gunned the engine, and went screaming out of the driveway onto the road, narrowly avoiding a pothole that would have easily bent the Impala's axle. He had to get out of there, just for the night.**

Sam started when he heard the engine roar and the tires scrape across the gravel and macadam.

"Guess he took it pretty badly," Travis said quietly. "Figures. He always was a drama queen. Want another beer?"

**How could he have missed all of this? How could he have not seen that the girl he'd been stupid over as a kid wanted to be a guy? Had he missed some kind of hint?**

**God. He'd had her- his- her- dick in his ass. It? They? Shim? Fuck, what was the protocol? Demons, he could handle. Ghosts, too. Even weird shapeshiftery things that consumed human offal and shrieked in tones that would drive any listeners mad were more straightforward in his mind than trying to figure out how to address someone after they'd done _that_ to themselves.**

"Sure, thanks."

Travis extricated himself from Sam and the couch, padding over to the fridge. "So I gotta know- how'd you get all educated on how to not be a shit to transgender folks?"

"Stanford. One of my friends wound up coming out, and one of my professors was transgender, too." He half-smiled. "She was terrible, though. I had to take her class twice because she was such a hardass."

**Once again, Dean hated himself. Had Dana been really hurting, and he'd been totally oblivious? Was there something he could have done to help? Or was this some weird ploy to spite him- weirder things had happened, admittedly- and she was just fucking with him?**

**He swore at himself for even considering that last theory. Stupid!**

**Worst of all, did this make all of the sex they'd had gay? And what did that say about him?**

"Guess I shouldn't be surprised. College teaches you all kinds of crazy shit outside of class." Travis handed Sam a second beer. "Still can't believe how much you grew. Jesus. You're a fucking moose."

**His gut churned. If she wasn't fucking with him- could something possibly be fucking with Dana? Again, he reminded himself, weirder things had happened. People didn't just get a sex change out of nowhere.**

"Yeah, kinda came out of left field." Sam let Trav flop back down on the couch, and reached over to touch his beard tentatively. "So... how long've you been on hormones?"

"Couple years. It's been mostly great, except for the social aspect. Transitioning where you grew up is a goddamn pain in the ass." Travis grinned as Sam scritched at his facial hair idly. "Once I get enough transfer credits under my belt, I'm out of here."

**Conveniently, he was ignoring the many years since they'd seen each other. Of course he would have noticed. He was a Winchester. He was trained to notice things.**

"Where're you thinking of going? I've got friends around could help you settle into wherever you go, provided it's in the continental US."

"I'm thinking California. I'm done with the east coast, you know? You get tired of this shit, and I'm sick to fuck of New Yorkers."

**There had to have been something fucking with Dana's head, Dean decided, and he was going to find out what, starting tomorrow. Tonight, though, he had to find a place to crash, and so far none of the trashy little motels he favored were available. Most had closed down, burned down, or been razed and sold off for the land.**

The pair on the couch went quiet, enjoying each other's company as they slowly got buzzed. Dean would be back, Sam was sure. He'd have his head in order, be able to process seeing Travis as Travis, and maybe things would be awkward, but it would be okay. Then they could get on with the job, maybe have a little downtime to dick around with, and then move off down the road to the next thing that needed slaying.

  
**He took a few deep breaths, starting to finally feel calmer. There were things he could do to fix this. Then he and Dana could maybe have a little casual sex for old time's sake before he and Sam rode off into the sunset, victorious as usual.**

That would be perfect, Sam thought.

**That would be perfect, decided Dean.**


	4. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter- Sam calls out Dean's shit.

Next morning, painfully early for Dean, and already Sam was ragging on him.

"You seriously need to start talking to Travis."

Dean swore under his breath, quietly- they were in the central library down in town, Sam leafing through a book of Monroe County's history, Dean slowly slogging through the newspaper archive. Only some were digitized; the rest were still on microfiche and the reader's focusing knob was busted, leaving the text just blurry enough to give him a killer headache.

"I'm not kidding. You're acting like a dick, Dean."

"Can we just focus on the job already? And I'm not acting like a dick," he snarled, then lunged for his bag, desperate for a handful of aspirin. He chewed them dry, turning back to the reader. "I just want to get this job done and get out of here. Why've you gotta be such a bitch about it?"

Sam watched his brother scroll through the articles, then shook his head, disapproving quietly. "He's still our friend," he murmured. "I know you're weirded out by the whole transgender thing, but you could at least try to remember how much he helped us back in the day."

"Yeah, well you didn't just find out that your ex-girlfriend is now your ex-boyfriend, Sammy."

"Is that seriously what this is about?" One eyebrow arched, and Sam let out a short burst of incredulous laughter. "Are you actually, seriously freaking out because you think he somehow made you retroactively gay?"

A muscle in Dean's jaw twitched as he gritted his teeth.

"This is literally one of the most childish things I've ever heard out of you, and that includes the time you wouldn't talk to me all day because I said Thundercats sucked."

"Shut the hell up!"

The library fell absolutely silent as Dean's words echoed through the upper floor.

He grabbed his bag, shoving his chair back into place as he stalked out, leaving Sam with a massive pile of books, a fucked-up micro reader, and the feeling that maybe he'd pushed the wrong button this time.


	5. Seek and ye shall find

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean discovers that nosing around in your ex's stuff is generally a bad idea. Warning again for misgendering and the like.

It was late before Dean finally got up the courage to head over to Travis's place again. He felt guilty about abandoning Sam at the library, but he needed time to think in private, and surely there was some form of public transportation around here, wasn't there? Of course there was. There always was.

When he pulled into the driveway, the house was dark and the door locked. The spare key, however was right where he remembered it, and soon he was rummaging through the place, EMF reader in hand.

The small Sam-like voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him, telling him to stop, that there wasn't anything there to find. Dana wasn't coming back, Dean would have to find a way to cope with Travis, and Sam had been entirely right earlier that day- he was being childish over some weird machismo thing that ultimately meant nothing. He wasn't less of a man just because his ex-girlfriend wasn't a girl anymore. He hadn't known at the time. Hell, nobody'd known at the time.

When he found himself going through Travis's underwear drawer in desperation, the EMF barely registering anything other than the usual low-grade old house spiritual residue, he flopped on the unmade bed and swore to himself.

He was stupid. This was stupid. Everything was stupid.

He held his head in his hands, eyes squeezed shut as his heart lurched in an awful, sickening way. Dean Winchester, slayer of demons and ghosts, the man who'd survived a wendigo, the king problem-solver extraordinaire, had been defeated by humans being human, and that ached. Monsters were no problem. What he feared most was people and their terrifyingly unpredictable behavior, and this was the perfect example.

Hunting made sense. Monsters made sense. People, however, were an entirely different ballgame he'd never gotten the rulebook to.

He lay back, muttering soft curses under his breath, but stopped when he felt something strange and lumpy under the pillow. He reached for it, praying it wasn't a dildo or vibrator or something like that. If it was, he'd spend the rest of his night washing his hands.

When he pulled it out, it wasn't a dildo, though he didn't get to breathe a sigh of relief. An athame, well-forged of Damascus steel with an intricately carved bone haft lay in his hand. The approximate size and shape of the handle made him think of a human femur, albeit a smallish one. The blade was mostly clean, but there was dried blood in the nooks and crannies of the bone. Worst of all, the thing stank of evil.

_Shit._

He gently replaced the knife, picking up his EMF and giving the room a more thorough search. One spot seemed to register a faint blip on the device, but nothing jumped out at him.

Then he looked up.

The attic stairs. The pullstring had dark coppery-colored stains tainting the worn cotton. More blood.

He shoved a pile of laundry out of the way and yanked on the string, hauling the ladder down so fast it nearly got him in his shins. A faint, sickly-sweet smell rolled down from the dark space, shortly followed by the pungent stench of some combination of burned herbs. Dean gagged at the stink, eyes tearing up as he coughed and spat, trying to get the warm miasma out of his sinuses and lungs.

This was going places he wasn't sure he wanted to know about.

Still, he pushed himself to climb the ladder, forcing the bile back down his throat as the stench grew stronger. At the far end, he could see a lump that pulsed faintly, seeming to shift, covered in what looked like a black blanket as he played a light over it. There was a hum, familiar, but he couldn't place what it sounded like.

Slowly, carefully he climbed into the attic, pulling his gun as he approached the lump. It was vaguely human-sized, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Lots of things were human-sized and fit under blankets. The fact that it was placed on a high-grade demonic sigil that had been burned into the floorboards was more concerning at the moment. How had that thing evaded the EMF reader? He'd have to recalibrate it when he got a free moment.

As he stepped closer, he had the slow, dawning realization that _no_ , that wasn't a blanket covering the thing, it was flies, tens of thousands of them crawling and eating and _breeding_ over something that at one point had been a person. The stench was unbearable from three feet away, and as he got closer, gagging, the flies lifted away, leaving the corpse squirming with maggots and glistening with digestive juices left over from the insects. He could hear the sound of the larvae _chewing_.

He turned away, bile rising, and vomited until there was nothing to bring up anymore. The shirt still draped on the thing's bones had looked familiar enough he had the sinking feeling he knew who it was.

Mrs. Price.

Dana's mom.


	6. Gimme a Pick-Me-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which writing this made me crave a diner dinner.

"Thanks for picking me up, man," Sam sighed as he folded himself into the passenger seat of Travis's aging Sentra. It was getting late, and Dean hadn't returned or called or even picked up his phone since he'd run off on his temper tantrum that afternoon. "I'm really sorry about this."

"Naw, it's no problem. It's the least I can do for a buddy." Travis smiled, chuckling when Sam rolled the seat as far back as it could go. "Sorry about the tiny car. Wasn't expecting to have Paul freaking Bunyan show up, you know?" He gave Sam a gentle, friendly sock in the arm.

"Hey, it's cool. I'm just glad I don't have to walk to your place. You want to grab dinner somewhere? My treat."

Travis laughed ruefully. "I'd really appreciate that, actually. I haven't had the funds for a dinner out in a long-ass time. Textbooks ate all my spare money this year."

They pulled out of the parking lot onto the main drag, turning right towards Tannersville and a fairly reputable diner.

"So did you find anything?"

"Well, a whole lot of arson, for one thing. It's funny, nearly everything in this area has burned down at _least_ once from what I can tell, or had some sort of fire-related incident. And if it wasn't fire, it was the flood in 1955. There has to be something to this area, just judging by the news." Sam shook his head. "Nothing specific to the pizzerias, though. Nothing really ties them together besides what they sold, and the general vicinity, but if everything else is burning down..."

"Think it could just be a coincidence? I mean, it's not uncommon here for business owners to torch their shit if it's not turning enough of a profit."

"Yeah, but all of them in a really short time period? And some of them were getting rave reviews online. About the only one left is pretty much unburnable because it's built out of cinderblocks instead of timber."

Travis sucked his teeth, thinking quietly as they rolled through a yellow light. "So... angry pizza ghost?"

"Or some guy summoned something to take care of the competition. It's plausible," Sam offered. "People get desperate, especially when business is bad. You never know what someone might be willing to do."

"True enough." Travis cursed as they stopped behind a huge lineup of cars trying to get onto route 80. "Should've taken the long way around. God fucking dammit."

"Do you know any of the business owners who got hit? Maybe Dean and I could interview them, see if there's a common thread. It'd help if we had our foot in the door via a local."

Travis shrugged, shaking his head. "I don't know-them know-them, but I do know some of them tend to hang out at the Forks in Mountainhome with all the other local bigwigs. You might be able to get info out of them if you buy enough drinks, maybe get Dean to flirt a little with the women. Sure beats pretending to be FBI, at any rate, and I can't pull that off around here since everyone kind of knows me."

That earned a surprised look. "You took up hunting?"

"Just small-change shit," was the modest response. "Dean told me about hunting ghosts, and I did a little research on my own. I don't do anything harder than ectoplasm, you know? Too dangerous, not enough resources beyond this one weird old dude I found online. Not really sure what's what, with demons or monsters, what all's reliable info. Ghosts at least are pretty samey."

The lineup began to move, and soon they were heading slowly up 611 towards the diner, some douchebag from New York crawling up Travis's tailpipe.

"So... is there anything you want us to teach you while we're here?"

"Nah. I'm good." Trav brake-checked the New Yorker, muttering a curse under his breath. "This is basically just ghost country anyhow. Folks around here don't fuck with supernatural shit much."

The traffic sped up, and soon they'd made a right down one of the backcountry highways, the night wind blowing warm in the windows. Sam settled as comfortably as he could in the passenger seat, closing his eyes and giving a jaw-cracking yawn. Today had been taxing, both mentally and emotionally, and he was ready for a burger and an early night.

Moments later he was flung forward, the seatbelt catching him roughly across the chest as the old Sentra's brakes squealed, Travis roaring out in terror as he tried to avoid the enormous black car barrelling towards them, lights blinding them both.

There was a sickening smack as the smaller car hit a tree, and everything went black.


	7. Devil in the Details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally lets Sam in on the plan, Travis is less than entirely pleased when he finds out.

Sam came to, groggy and sore and not entirely certain what happened. He could hear the sounds of footsteps pacing a wooden floor, and feel ropes binding him to a chair a little too small for his ass. Beside him, the slow, steady breathing of an unconscious person.

Tentatively, he opened his eyes, wincing at the light. The first thing he saw was his own legs and feet, and just out of his reach, a salt ring. He squeezed his eyes shut again, groaning, and shifted against the ropes, trying to find an easy way out of them.

"He-ey, you're awake."

"Dean?"

"Yeah."

"What the fuck? Did you run us off the fucking road?" Sam blinked again, his vision clearing. His head ached, and he was pretty sure he'd bounced it off the dashboard when they'd hit the tree. "Are you _completely_ insane?!"

His eyes finally focused on his brother, who was leaning against a table a few feet away, arms folded as he watched Sam. To his side, Sam could see Travis similarly bound and encircled with salt, but still unconscious.

"Oh my god. You've lost your mind. You've seriously lost your damn mind."

"Nope. Take a look at what I found upstairs." Dean pulled out the athame, waggling it in front of Sam. "Now before I cut you free- _Christo_."

Sam stared petulantly at Dean, then let out a soft curse and ducked his head when he stepped forward to cut the ropes. "Are you serious?"

"As cancer," Dean murmured. "Dana's mom's in the attic, dead on some kind of sigil. If this guy even is who he says he is, he's got a lot of explaining to do."

In a few moments, Sam stood, rubbing his head, and stepped out of the salt ring. "Shit. _Shit._ So what do we do?"

"Interrogate him, find out if he's a demon, exorcise him if he is, kill him if he isn't. Find out where Dana is. Burn her mom's bones for insurance." Dean shook his head. "I knew something was up. This guy doesn't act like Dana. Too quiet."

"He knows a hell of a lot about our past with her, though," Sam pointed out. "Get the go-bag out of the back, we'll need some holy water and the standard exorcism rite. God, he had me fooled."

"Way ahead of you, Sammy." Dean plopped the go-bag on the dining room table he'd shoved to the side to make room for the salt circles. "Dude probably has access to the body's memories, so that means Dana's under there somewhere."

"Travis."

"Not so sure about that anymore."

"I am."

Dean met his brother's eyes, and his jaw clenched for a moment. "She could be under there, screaming. We don't know. Let's get the thing out, and then worry about this shit."

Sam sighed, shaking his head. "Whatever. Just don't be surprised when he kicks you in the nads for misgendering him."

"Not gonna happen."

There was a soft groan as Travis awoke, his head lolling back.

"Morning, sunshine," Dean smirked, pulling a chair around and straddling it, leaning on the back and leering at Travis. "How's the head?"

"Motherfucker," was the raspy response. "Why am I tied up?"

"Insurance. Now, you're gonna tell us exactly what all's been going on, who you are, and why you got Mrs. Price rotting in your attic, or we're gonna start making you gargle holy water."

Travis coughed, giving Dean an incredulous look. "Have you gone totally insane? Sam, what the hell is wrong with your brother?"

"Sorry," Sam murmured, approaching the captive man. _"Christo."_

A look of absolute horror and rage crossed Travis's face as his eyes shimmered black, and the Winchesters breathed a sigh of relief.

"Fuckers! Motherfuckers!" Travis fought against his bonds, the chair dragging and jouncing across the floor towards Dean, who backed up instinctively despite the protective ring of salt. "I dare you to try shit, you little bastards! I will fuck each of you, and then I swear I'll wrench your souls from your flensed corpses!"

"Well, that answers that question." Sam glanced at Dean. "Got the exorcism?"

"Yeah. Let's get this started."

The demon roared, Travis's jaw distending as the ropes immolated around him. "Don't you fucking dare! I'm not _done_ yet!"

Sam ignored the raging thing before him, flipping through his father's notebook to the proper page. _"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas..."_

"Your exorcism is worthless and your Latin is _shit!"_

There was a brief pause as Sam tried not to be at least slightly offended by this. _"...omnis incursio infernalis adversarii..."_

Travis snarled again, smashing the chair and kneeling on the floor, the black demonsmoke slowly beginning to leak from his mouth and seep between the floorboards.

_"...omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, in nomine et virtute Domini Nostri Jesu Christi..."_

Another scream, and then a faint, slow smile began to cross Travis's face as he stood and approached the salt line again. "Dean," he murmured, shaking his head. "Aw, Dean, you fucked up but _good_ this time."

And then he stepped over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brief nod to one of my fave twine games in here- if you are into weird demonic monster transformation not quite porn, go play Sabbat or i s2g


	8. Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit happens, rama rama ding ding.

Dean's breath caught as the demon stepped over the salt line. They weren't supposed to do that. Everything he and Sam had read had only ever confirmed that demons and ghosts couldn't cross salt lines. This was impossible.

He staggered back a step, eyes wide as Travis approached.

"Dean," Sam said, voice quavering, "how the _hell_ did he do that?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," the demon smirked, and it looked ugly on Travis's baby face as he approached. Dean backed away, scrabbling for something, anything to defend himself with- part of his mind was screaming, that there was a person under there, someone he'd cared about and oh god _what was he doing_ -

The demon stopped, enjoying the stink of panic emanating from both Winchesters.

"I'll leave you to cleanup, then. Catch you later- I've got a job to do."

And with that, Travis was gone, leaving the stink of sulfur and smoke.

There was a long, aching moment of silence as the brothers stared, wide-eyed, at the salt circle.

"Was that salt?"

Dean nodded slowly, breath quavering. "That was fucked up."

> _It's fall._
> 
> _Dana is trailing her fingers over Dean's neck and shoulders as they lie in the grass together on the Henryville hill. There's the sweet foxy stink of grapes in the air, and somewhere someone's hit a skunk, just far enough away that they only get the occasional faint whiff of it. Farther away is the scent of burning leaves._
> 
> _He's got his hand up her shirt as they kiss- the grass is high enough they don't have to worry about being seen- and right now, in this moment, he's entirely content with the world and his place in it._
> 
> _"What would you do if some big scary critter came and got me?" She sits up, gazing down at him with a few stray leaves in her hair._
> 
> _He reaches up and pokes her nose, making her scrunch up her face and laugh._
> 
> _"I'd rescue you, dummy. What the hell else do you think I'd do?"_
> 
> _"I don't know. What if you couldn't rescue me?"_
> 
> _Dean rolls his eyes. "That's bullshit. There's always an out, unless you're dead, and even then I've heard there's ways to bring someone back."_
> 
> _She lies back down, sighing, and pulls a smushed pack of Pall Malls from her bag, wrinkles her nose when she sees them ruined, and tosses it aside. "Maybe. Promise me, though, no matter what happens to me, you'll save me, okay? I don't want to be some freak's lunch."_
> 
> _He smiles, watching her settle back down into the grass. "Promise."_

Dean swallowed hard as he took a seat. He'd promised. He'd promised she'd be safe, he'd promised he'd rescue her, and now he had no idea where she was or what to do. The demon had said something about a job, god only knew what. There was still a corpse upstairs to salt and burn and bury. And for whatever reason, the salt circle hadn't worked.

He rested his head on the table, letting out a groan of frustration, his hands fisting in his short, somewhat bristly hair. This sucked.

"Found out what was wrong, at least."

Dean glanced up at Sam. " _Please_ tell me it's something stupid and obvious and we're not dealing with some kind of fucked up uber-demon?"

That earned a chuckle. "You're in luck, then. There's a crack in the floorboards just wide enough to let the salt through if you shift around a little. When he was jumping around screaming, he must have knocked enough through to break the circle."

"Oh, thank god."

This? Was manageable. This was doable. They'd exorcised a demon or two before, and this would be no different, as long as they could track it down.

The only problem was tracking it down.

"So where do you think our guy went? He said he had a job."

Sam shook his head. "I can't even begin to-"

They both paused as the faint sound of a siren wailed away in the distance.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Doesn't hurt to check." Sam grabbed the duffel bag and his father's journal. "Let's go."


	9. Fire in the hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Showdown at the hoedown, courtesy of a can of gasoline and some matches.

The Impala roared down the back roads of Canadensis and Mountainhome, ignoring all speed limits and mowing down several unfortunate animals as Sam and Dean followed the sound of sirens. Had this been any other night, they would have been stopped, but for now, everyone was rushing to see the fire.

Fire was a spectacle in the local culture. It happened often enough that a good fire was now considered a time to socialize, and these past few years had seen some fantastic ones. This newest fire wasn't much to speak of, to be honest. The building was small, barely larger than a shed, and the large barn nearby was too far away to catch alight. Still, it was a fire, and there was plenty of room to congregate while the fire company did its job.

The Winchesters pulled into the field behind the burning building and killed the engine, watching from a distance, waiting to see if Travis was among the gathering crowd.

"What if he's not here?" 

Sam scanned the faces he could see in the flickering light, his breath shallow. So far, nothing.

"Then he's not here. He can't hide forever," Dean growled. "We find him and we get him the hell out of that body."

A slow nod. Sam didn't have much hope, to be honest.

What ate at him most was realizing that the person he'd been bonding with all the past couple of days wasn't who he'd thought it was. That Travis, so much quieter and nicer than Dana had been, was just a demon doing a bad impression of an old friend. It wasn't that he didn't like Dana, in fact the opposite was true, but she was abrasive where Travis yielded, and raucous where Travis was gentle. He'd liked how he'd mellowed over the years.

Hopefully that still stood when they yanked the demon out of him.

Dean, meanwhile, still held out hope that somehow, somewhere, Travis was just the demon and Dana was still inside, screaming to get out. He knew it was selfish, but at this point, any motivation was good motivation.

"Look!"

Behind the barn was a shadowy figure, barely visible in the darkness, only faintly outlined by the firelight.  
Travis.

The brothers slipped out of the car as quietly as possible, Dean hunkering down in the grass and creeping closer while Sam circled around towards another outbuilding, hoping to trap Travis between him and Dean.

Sam paused by a big blue spruce, watching Travis from only a few feet away. Nothing seemed to be happening, and he was fairly certain he hadn't been detected. God. It just felt so wrong doing this to someone he liked.

Meanwhile, Dean had his gun drawn, a silencer fitted to it. Incapacitate, then exorcise. Worst that happened was that it didn't work and they had to figure out a plan B, right?

"Hi, Dean."

Shit.

He stood, jaw set. "I just want to talk."

"With a gun in your hand? I don't think so." Travis snorted. "Like you'd hurt your little girlfriend anyway. I saw how bad you were freaking out back at the house. I don't think you have the _balls_ to-"

Dean raised his gun and fired, the bullet slamming into Travis's shoulder.  The demon stumbled back a few steps, eyes wide even as the wound healed.

"Oh my god. Oh my god! You fucking psycho, you _shot_ me! You _seriously_ just fucking sh-"

**spang**

Travis crumpled to the ground senseless as Sam lowered the spade he'd found leaning up against the barn.

"You're lucky you didn't hit me," he panted, narrowing his eyes at Dean. "Seriously."

"I saw you! You were fine! You had like a mile of clearance!"

"Whatever. Let's get this asshole back to the car and exorcise him before he wakes up again."

They carried Travis's unconscious form to the Impala, skirting around the edge of the firelight, thankful that nobody had noticed what had happened. Into the backseat he went.

"Got the notebook?"

"Yeah. Start heading towards home. I got this covered."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for some ungodly reason chapter notes from like 2 chapters ago are showing up here no matter what i do so uh hi ok


	10. Yes, it goes on and on, my friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travis is back and better than ever, for some values of better.

Sam muttered the incantation softly as they rolled down Clark Road, the bug noise nearly as loud as the engine as the demonsmoke leaked from Travis's mouth and nose, slowly seeping through the floor and leaving him unconscious and breathless with his head on Sam's lap. It was the most uneventful exorcism he'd ever seen, once it finally happened.

To be honest, he was grateful, despite the wound in Travis's shoulder. He'd have to get the bullet out and patch him up, but it wasn't the first time he'd done it, and at least nothing vital had been hit. Other wounds had appeared on Trav's body, most notably his arms, but nothing that wouldn't heal given a little peroxide and maybe a couple of stitches at most.

How much would he remember? Did demons let the humans they possessed see what they did with their bodies? And if so, how much?

Sam set aside Travis's baseball cap and smoothed his hair, watching out the window as Dean made the left onto 447. Almost there. Almost home.

A high, keening noise left Travis's lips as he began to come to, his eyes fluttering as his face contorted in agony.

"Sssh. Hey. We got you," Sam soothed. "I know it hurts like hell. We're gonna get you patched up and good as new the minute we get you home. It's just a little slug; we can get it out of you quick and easy."

"Fffffffffffuck," Travis hissed, eyes nearly crossing as he squirmed. "Fuck! Fuck! You fucking idiots!"

"Awake already?" Dean glanced in the rearview.

"Yeah."

"Fucking idiot shitassed motherfuckers! Jesus christ! Fuck fuck fuck fuck-" he grabbed Sam's hand and squeezed hard enough to make him wince, nails digging into Sam's palm. "Fucking christ! What the fuck?"

"Ssh. Calm down, we're almost there." Sam had curled up enough his forehead was nearly touching Travis's. "You're gonna be okay."

_"Dean, I'm gonna fucking kill you!"_

"You have no idea how glad I am to hear that," Dean muttered under his breath, nosing the car around the turn into the driveway. "You good to carry, uh, him in?"

"Yeah." Sam scooped up the much smaller man as another pained yowl ripped from him. "Sshh, I got you. I got you, Travis. You're good."

They slipped into the house- "You didn't even lock the _door?!"_ \- and Sam set Travis on the couch, letting him take a moment to breathe.

"I got this." Dean knelt beside him. "Go heat up some water, get me some alcohol and the sewing kit."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Sam stood, glancing warily back at Dean and Travis.

"Losechester I'm gonna _fucking kill your dumb ass_ -"

"Can it, Princess." He quickly cut off Travis's mangled and bloodied shirt, revealing the wound. It was surprisingly tidy, thank god, and he folded up the cleanest part of the shirt to apply pressure. "What the fuck were you doing fucking with demons?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Dean, I don't- AUGH- I don't fuck with demons! I've never fucked with demons! I fuck with ghosts and _that's it!_ " Travis bared his teeth, his good hand fisting in Dean's shirt. "He said something to me about a job and someone making a deal and that was all, I swear to god I'm telling the truth!"

"Dana, god dammit, _hold still!"_

There was a long moment of silence, save for the sound of Travis's heavy breathing, and Sam readying things in the kitchen.

"Call me Dana again and I'm gonna punch you in the tit."

"Called it!"

"Shut up, Sam!" Dean gritted his teeth, face flaming as he pressed against the wound. Well, at least that was settled.

Soon everything was laid out on the coffee table, and Dean was prodding at the wound with tweezers, cursing under his breath as he tried to extract the bullet. Sam sat behind Travis, arms wrapped around his chest to keep him still while Dean worked.

"I swear to god you assholes are gonna be the death of me," Travis griped, tears running down his face from the pain. "How I'm not in shock yet is fucking beyond me."

Sam smiled, giving Travis a slight squeeze. "You'll be okay. We've just got to get you patched up and try to figure out how to fix things around here. Did the demon tell you anything else?"

"Not really. He spent a hell of a lot of time trying to convince me to kill myself once he left. I spent a lot of time singing The Song That Doesn't End. Pissed him off something fierce."

That gave Dean pause. "Did you seriously try to _annoy_ the demon out of you?"

"Once I realized he was in here for the long haul, I decided it couldn't hurt. What's he gonna do, kill me while he's in me?"

"Pretty much, yeah." Sam let out a short laugh. "That's probably a bad idea, just for future reference."

Soon enough the bullet was out and Travis was as stitched up as he was going to get, with his arm in a makeshift sling to prevent him from ripping his stitches. He dragged his way into the kitchen to make tea, leaving Sam and Dean to clean up the bloody mess in the living room.

"You should talk to him."

"What?"

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head, his voice a low whisper. "I said, you should talk to him. You've got shit to work out with him, and it may as well be now. Plus you should be the one to break it to him about his mom."

Fuck. Dean had forgotten all about Mrs. Price up in the attic, still rotting away.

"Fine." He scrubbed uselessly at a bloodstain on the couch. "Once we get this cleaned up enough, I'll talk to him. And he's probably gonna kick me in the dick.'

"Only if you're a jerk."

 _"Only if you're a jerk,"_ Dean mimicked sarcastically. "Christ. When am I ever a jerk?"

That earned a flat look from Sam. "You really want me to answer that?"

Dean stood, grumbling under his breath, and headed into the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why the fuck are like a jillion chapters' ago notes staying down here hlep


	11. Do the dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally gets up the cojones to talk to Travis.

"D-"

Travis stiffened.

"Travis," Dean corrected himself. "Listen, can we talk?"

"Sure, what about?" Trav stuck the kettle under the faucet, pointedly looking anywhere but Dean.

"I, uh. I'm sorry. About the name thing." Hardest words he'd ever said. "And I don't know how much you saw with the demon in you, but I'm sorry about stuff I said yesterday, too."

"It's cool." Travis's voice was hoarse. "I figured I'd probably never see you again so it'd be a non-issue. I would've told you the minute I came out if I thought you'd be around again."

Dean leaned against the counter, watching Travis. He still moved sort of like Dana had, but less sway in the hips, and much more at ease in the space he took up. The constant tenseness was gone. "You look good."

"Thanks. So do you. You filled out real nice."

He ducked his head, the tops of his ears turning pink as Travis turned a smile towards him. "Thanks."

A long, awkward silence stretched between them as they tried not to look each other over.

"So... does this make the stuff we did back then gay?"

A short bark of laughter. "Oh my god, Dean. Really? You thought I was a girl. _I_ thought I was a girl. You didn't earn the Homo Merit Badge just because I pegged you when we were seventeen and I had tits."

Silence again.

"Why? Do you, uh... _want_ to earn the Homo Merit Badge?"

Dean swallowed hard and fought back the urge to snap. Stay cool, stay calm. And it was an honest question. "I don't know."

"Because if we do anything right now, it's totally gay and you're a huge fag." Travis grinned and socked him in the arm. "Like me."

He flinched slightly at the words- it wasn't something he was totally comfortable hearing in reference to anyone he liked. John Winchester had never been notably homophobic, but there was a way Things Were Done, and a way Things Were Not Done, and being with other men in a romantic context fell under the latter category.

Damned if Travis didn't still have those pretty eyelashes, though.

"Hey." Travis touched his arm, bringing him back to the moment. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I'm so used to just tossing shit like that around with my friends that I forget some folks don't handle it well. Not everybody is ready to be King Queer of Don't Give A Shit Mountain."

"Yeah," Dean chuckled softly. "I'm sure not."

"That's cool. Let me know the minute you decide you want to taste the rainbow, okay? Until then we can figure out where the fuck that demon came from and what the job was besides burning down pizza places. Maybe get a little high from time to time."

"I'd like that."

"Yeah." Travis leaned in a little closer to Dean. "Me too. You know, you're still my favorite ex."

"I bet you say that to everyone you've dated."

"Bullshit. That Ziegler fucker can die in a goddamn fire for all I care."

Yep. Same old Dana, just now with a new name and a beard. Things felt at least a little more like they should. Dean leaned in and pressed a kiss to Travis's forehead, mussing his hair as he pulled back.

"Don't tell Sam, ok?" Dean's voice was barely audible.

"Uh, pretty sure he'll figure it out in like two seconds. It's okay. He can be a little shit, but he's a good kid. You raised him well. He won't care if you're a little bent." He smiled up at Dean. "You two have more important shit to worry about than whether or not the other is queer. What if it was the other way around, and he was the one contemplating kissing a dude?"

Dean shrugged. "Wouldn't care. I mean, I'd tease him about it, but I wouldn't actually care."

"It's gonna be the same way for him. Trust me."

Another silence stretched out, this one much more comfortable. The air'd been mostly cleared, _finally._

Then Dean remembered about Mrs. Price again.

"Uh. I got some bad news, though."

"Hit me with it. I can take it."

"This isn't about the whole 'what are we' thing. Uh, while the demon was in you, it did some pretty heinous stuff."

"No shit. It's a _demon,_ " Travis snarked. "And I'm guessing I'm going to take the rap for it unless we can figure out how to get it cleaned up?"

"Kind of." Dean's shoulders slumped. "He killed someone."

Travis's knuckles went white around a tea-towel as he waited for the other shoe to drop.

"God. I'm sorry about this. I found her up in the attic. We've got to give her a proper hunter's burial."

"Who did you find." It wasn't a question.

"You might want to sit down."

Travis shook his head. "Tell me."

Dean watched his expression carefully, reaching out to take his good hand. Right now worrying about being percieved as gay took a backseat to comforting a friend.

"Tell me!"

"Your mom. I'm so fucking sorry, Travis. If we'd have shown up about a week earlier, we could've saved her."

Travis began to hyperventilate, his expression stricken as a great, heaving, hiccuping sob shook his body. "No, oh god, no-"

Wordlessly, Dean pulled him into a hug, letting him cling and bury his face in his chest. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't do it. It was the demon wearing you like a suit, and you had no control over anything he did."

It was some time before Travis finally let go, too exhausted to cry anymore.

"I need sleep," he croaked, voice a wreck. "You and Sam get her ready for a burial, but I want to be there when we actually do it. God. Fuck!"

Dean nodded slowly. "We'll wake you once we have everything cleaned up and ready. You got gas or something in the garage?"

"Lamp oil, but it oughta-" his voice broke harsh on the words. "-it oughta work."

"I'm sorry," Dean said again. His heart knifed sideways in his chest, feeling that old scab get picked off and rubbed raw. Losing a mother... it _hurt_ more than almost anything else had hurt, and his gut knotted knowing that if they'd only been a little earlier, this wouldn't have happened.

Slowly, gently, he guided Travis to the guest bedroom, helped him undress down to his boxers, and tucked him in.

"You need anything else?"

Travis shook his head, breath still shaky. "Wait. In the bathroom there's a pill bottle marked Zolpidem. One of those and a glass of water?"

"All right."

When Dean returned, Travis was out like a light, too exhausted to keep awake any longer. He set the pill and the glass on the bedside table, pausing to watch Travis's chest rise and fall as he slept, then silently turned to go prepare to give Mrs. Price some semblance of a proper burial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will never not grump about a jillion chapters ago notes still showing up down here


	12. Pyre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Price is laid to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updated the tags for the work, didn't add too much heavy stuff but if death bothers you, be aware that that's the focus of this chapter

Travis's face was stony as he watched her burn.

The firelight flickered and danced- they'd waited until darkness to finally bring her out to the spot they'd prepared for her, resting as comfortably as they could manage under a big hemlock not far from the stream. She'd loved to come out and paint- her art was lackluster at best, but she'd _enjoyed_ it, and it seemed fitting to lay her to rest out near where she'd spent so much time.

The smell of woodsmoke didn't cover up the roast-pork stink of burning flesh, but it at least made it a little more bearable. They'd used pine, cherry, hickory, cedar, a handful of incense cones, anything that would cover the smell of Nancy Price as she was consumed by the flames.

It was only fitting. She wasn't just meat.

Sam and Dean flanked Travis, neither one wanting to leave him, but neither one ready to say anything. Dean, at least, knew the pain of losing a mother. Sam knew how it felt to lose someone he loved. Both knew the rank taste of evil on the tongue when demons were involved.

Travis clenched and unclenched his fist, knuckles popping one at a time as he pressed them with his thumb. He'd cried himself out when they'd gently dropped her sheet-wrapped body into the hole and covered her with as much salt as they could find from her canning supplies and old bags of ice-melt. It had been a thick layer, nearly a half inch once they were finished. On top of this, they'd placed the wood scraps and incense, and on those, a few fading mums from the pots on the front stoop. A liberal coating of lamp oil ensured that she would burn, and burn well.

Overkill, but she deserved the best they could give her, and what they could give her was an eternity of rest, free from the evil that had taken her.

Sam remembered the molasses cookies she'd baked, the countless batches perfected for the church cookie sale the winter they'd stayed. She'd always told him he was too skinny, worked too hard, needed a rest, needed some time away from Dean and his father and to just relax and be a young boy in the woods, the best place (in her opinion) for children to grow up. She'd urged him to stay, offered him a place when his father's work was finally finished. At that time, he'd felt unworthy, but now, watching the flames consume her, he wished he'd stayed. The school district wasn't a good one, but it offered stability. The Prices weren't wealthy, but they _cared_. When he'd expressed a desire to go to college, Mrs. Price- _Nancy,_ he reminded himself, _her name is Nancy_ \- had beamed pride at him so strong he'd felt nearly blinded, and he felt for once that maybe academics mattered more than his father had led him to believe.

Dean thought mostly of blisters on his hands and sunburn on his neck and back. Mrs. Price (he'd never felt comfortable using her first name) had put him to work the first day Dana had brought him home, chopping wood and hauling mulch and rocks in the garden, fixing potholes in the drive. She'd worked him hard, but glasses of sweet lemonade were always at hand, and the lunch and dinner she'd given him had been well worth the backbreaking labor. He remembered flirting with her. He'd flirted with all his girlfriends' mothers, but she was one of the first who hadn't taken offense to it. She'd ribbed him back, gently encouraging him to do more with his time than just raise hell and hassle girls. When he'd fixed her car for her, she'd been _so pleased_. He remembered how happy she'd been when she turned it on and it didn't stall out. Most of all, he remembered her advice to take classes at the Vo-Tech down the road, hone his skills building and fixing all things electronic and mechanical. Those had paid off, even as a hunter, and he privately credited her with the inspiration to MacGyver together his first EMF reader. She'd been motherly without trying to take the place of his mother. He'd appreciated that more than he'd ever let her know.

Both Winchesters knew she deserved better than she'd gotten, but neither of them had known better than Travis.

She'd struggled with his transition. Neither of them had really known how to deal with it, and so many missteps were made on the path to acceptance that sometimes it felt like it would tear them apart. The thought of that killed Travis, and his mother clung to him, trying to shield him from the prying questions and rude remarks of people around him. Initially, she'd discouraged him from seeking medical transition, but when he'd swallowed god knew how many painkillers and chased them with an entire bottle of tequila... well. Realization that it was a do-or-die situation dawned on her very quickly. Name and pronouns were a constant battle for her to remember, and when her mind began to go, it became even rougher. She had had to leave her job, gradually withdrawing from everyone and depending solely on Travis and his odd jobs to supplement her disability benefits and keep food on the table. She tried (by god she tried), but when she no longer recognized Travis as anyone she knew, the fear set in until she forgot how to be afraid. He cared for her as best he could, unable to afford to send her to a home- the demon had lied on that point as well- and unable to be away from her long enough to hold steady work.

No matter how little she remembered him, he'd loved her and would have died for her in a heartbeat. And now she was dead, and probably had died in fear and pain, seemingly betrayed by the one person who had sworn to care for her.

"I'm gonna kill that sack of shit," he rasped, jaw clenching. "Whoever's responsible for this, I'm gonna fucking tear them apart."

Sam and Dean didn't feel like disagreeing.


	13. Bridging the Gap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Better interpersonal relationships through chemistry.

Dean kept a close eye on Travis as they worked together, trying to figure out just who had summoned the demon and why. They'd narrowed it down to a few people- some local bigwigs who didn't want "trashy" businesses in the area, a couple pizzeria owners who weren't competing too well, and the one overtly white supremacist kook in town who had it in for anyone not pale and Protestant enough for his tastes, Italians included. Sam was out interviewing the suspects, as well as people who had witnessed the fires- usually Dean would be with him, but they'd agreed that someone should be home with Travis to make sure he was alright, and to help him out since his arm was still out of commission.

"So we've got... christ. Okay, so can I cross Capri Pizza off the list? They weren't even around when the fires started happening," Travis growled under his breath, leg jittering with nervous tension. "Fuck. Come _on_. Is Sam back yet? Can we _go_ somewhere?"

"We only have the one car until Bobby either fixes yours or finds you something to replace it. Till then, we're stuck. Now _focus_."

Travis's lip curled, but he turned back to the list of suspects, clicking a pen in his good hand. He felt all wound up tight, like a watchspring about to give. "Fine. But we've been at this for fucking hours, and I'm about at the end of my attention span, dude. For the love of fuck, let me have a damn break!"

Dean sighed, resting his head on the table as Travis stood and paced. "Well, what the hell are we supposed to do? We can't go anywhere."

"Could walk to the swimming hole and hang out under the bridge. Maybe a change of venue'd help us get a few new ideas. Something. Anything. I'm going fucking nuts here, okay?" His voice cracked on the last syllable, and Dean could see his chin wobble slightly, like he was about to cry.

"All right," Dean relented. "How's your shoulder, though?"

"I'll pop a few Advil or something before we go." Travis was already fumbling with his shoes. "I just can't stand being in this house right now."

"Sit down."

"Wh-"

"Sit down. Let me get that for you." Dean very gently rested a hand on Travis's uninjured shoulder, guiding him to a chair. "I think once this is over you're gonna have to come with us until you're healed."

"Probably longer. I'll be suspect numero uno once someone realizes Mom's not around anymore." His face crumpled, his anguish clear. "I was fucking _set_ , Dean. I was gonna get my degree, get a good job, hire a caretaker or put Mom in a good facility..."

"Hey." He knelt before Travis, loosening the laces on his battered workboots before sliding one onto his foot. "You're gonna be okay. Me and Sam are gonna make sure you're all set. We're not gonna leave you in the dust- we don't do that if we can help it. We got friends you can stay with, safe houses, and a hell of a lot of fake names for you to live under."

Travis's shoulders shook as he held his head in his good hand. "It's not what I _wanted_. I just wanted a quiet life, maybe work on grad school, find someone nice and settle down. I wanted _normal_ for once in my fucking life."

Dean didnt have an answer for that. Normal had never been in the Winchester lexicon.

He finished with Travis's shoes, and grabbed his jacket. "Yeah, you need to get out of here for a little. C'mon. Get some Advil down you, and let's go. I got a joint left over, and I think you need it more than I do."

"Christ. Thanks."

Dean waited by the door as Travis stuffed a few pills into his mouth, chewing them dry so they'd work faster, then carefully locked the house so there'd be no complaints later.

The weather was crisp, beautifully sunny without being warm, and the light filtered down through the maple leaves, giving everything a pinkish cast. Someone somewhere had a woodfire going, the rich scent filling the air and overlaying the dusty smell of slightly damp fallen leaves. The Poconos were at their fall peak.

"Gonna frost tonight."

"Oh yeah? How can you tell?" Dean gently bumped Travis with his hip.

"Smells like it. Watch, tonight there's gonna be a rainbow around the moon, and you're gonna have to warm your car up before you head anywhere tomorrow." He coughed, wincing. "Gonna have to turn the furnace on tonight. Christ. I can't afford this shit."

They scuffed through the fallen leaves, Travis with his shoulders hunched and head down, Dean by his side, not sure how close was too close, how Travis felt about him... and how he felt about Travis, to boot. He slowly edged a little closer, moving to guard the smaller man against the oncoming traffic, such as it was- an old Hudson cruised towards them, its chrome gleaming in the light as it gave them a politely wide berth. Normally it would have turned Dean's head. Today, however, he had other things on his mind.

"Man, tell me to shut up if this isn't a good time, but I'm curious as hell. How come you did the whole..." Dean motioned vaguely, " _...thing_ if you're into guys? Wouldn't it have been easier to just stay a girl?"

That earned a snort of laughter. "Really? I didn't transition for anyone else, Dean. I did it for me. And there's a different kinda dynamic or whatever when you're with a guy and you're seen as a woman than when you're seen as a man."

"Still don't really get it."

"You don't see gay guys running out and loading up on estrogen and boob jobs, do you?"

"Now _that_ makes a little more sense." He shrugged. "I dunno. I'm still a little weirded out."

"Hey, it's not like I was any big prize when I looked like a chick."

Dean's expression softened slightly. "I thought you were."

"You liked me because I put out easy and didn't tell anyone about your weird ABBA obsession," Travis snickered.

"Hey, you had a nice rack, too!" Dean felt a little defensive, but he was smiling. "Even if you were kind of a bitch."

"Yeah, but I shared my weed and gave you head. Of course you were gonna like me."

They went quiet again, turning to head across the bridge and avoiding a Jeep that was driving too damn fast. They scrambled down the bank, Dean with an arm around Travis's waist to keep him from falling on his injured shoulder. Under the bridge they went, giggling as they fell over one another to get to their favorite spot to smoke out. They settled in, perched on the smooth rocks deposited there by the stream, and huddled close to keep warm as Dean pulled a slightly raggy-looking joint and his zippo from his jacket pocket.

"You're a fucking godsend, Losechester." Travis watched hungrily as Dean lit it up, taking a long draw to get it going before passing it over.

"Yeah, yeah, you just love me for my drugs and my car," Dean grunted, coughing as he exhaled. "Jesus, that's harsh."

"Naw, I love you for your cute ass and DSLs, too." Travis smirked and took a hit, eyes fluttering shut as he held in the smoke.

They continued like this for a while, Travis getting contentedly stoned while Dean held off for the most part, making sure his friend wasn't going to lose his shit again and keeping an eye out for anyone who might hassle them. He let Travis move to sit between his legs and lean back against his chest, seeking warmth and comfort. Trav let out small, happy noises that weren't quite words as he settled against Dean, who took one long final hit before extinguishing the roach and sticking it back in his pocket for later.

"Missed you."

"...eah," Dean breathed, feeling just floaty enough to relax a little. "M'sorry we kinda up and left outta nowhere."

"S'cool. Your dad's a douchebag, I totally understand."

"Mmmf. Is not."

"Heard him call me your 'dyke girlfriend' once. Ain't the Kosher meal."

"S'just Dad."

"Still. Rude." Travis ruched a little, getting comfortable. "Wha'd you have done if you were there when I did the thing, the transition thing, like... would you have been okay, or...?"

"Dunno. Dad wouldna. Guess I wouldna, probably."

"Rude," Travis repeated, giggling. "Rude as _hell_."

"Not into guys," Dean protested.

"Hello, Doctor Sexy, M.D.? You fuckin'... you _salivated_ over that guy on TV today. I saw you. That shit is your big gay crush and _youuuuu_ know it."

"Liar."

"Fine then, Bowlegs McGee, look me in the damn eye and tell me you don't want to gut the love trout with Doctor Sexy!"

_"...gut the love trout?"_ Dean burst into hysterical laughter, resting his head on Travis's shoulder. "How fucking high are you?"

"High enough I don't give a fuck," Travis replied confidently, a hazy, smug grin on his face. "Every dude I know, gay, straight, bi, asexual even, has a gigantic fuckin' crush on Doctor Sexy. He's just _that pretty_. Nobody ever watches for that weak-ass plot, anyhow."

Dean was still giggling, helplessly draped over Travis's good shoulder. "Gut the fucking love trout, holy shit. There's something wrong with your brain."

"Blame that devil weed, whatever," Travis snorted, gently knocking their heads together. "Man, I forgot how totally useless you get when you're high. You need to partake more often, build up a damn tolerance. Fucking lightweight."

"Love trout," Dean gasped, tears in his eyes as he tried to stop laughing. _"Jesus."_

It took a few minutes for the giggling to die off, but Dean remained curled around Travis, too warm and fuzzy to care that it looked more than a little gay. They stayed contentedly quiet for a long while, hazily watching the stream flow and listening to the sound of birdsong and the occasional car going by.

"Thanks, man."

"Hmm?" Dean perked up a little.

"I needed this. Fuckin'... everything's gone to shit right now, but I'm really glad you and Sam are here. Dunno what I woulda done without you guys."

"Glad we decided to stop through. Woulda _sucked_ if we hadn't found out what was going on."

"No shit. I mean, it sucks now, but at least someone with a goddamn game plan's around to show me how to handle this."

"And I brought weed."

"And you brought weed. Yes. Thank you, Dean. Never woulda noticed." Travis reached up and ruffled Dean's hair. "Ugh. You need that Head and Shoulders shit again, you mangy motherfucker. You're flaking all over my coat."

"Hotel shampoo'll do that to you." Dean slid his arms around Travis, burying his nose in the crook of his neck. "Dude, are you still using that lavender bodywash? Isn't that a little, uh...?"

"You bet your ass I do. Nobody's ever complained yet. And if I recall correctly, you were a big fan back in the day." Travis smiled faintly. "You're awful huggy today."

"Mmmnh."

"Getting over the whole 'my ex is a guy' thing?"

"Mm." Dean nodded slightly.

"That's the joint talking, isn't it."

"Mm." Another nod.

"You shouldn't have taken that huge hit. You're gonna come down and be all insufferable and shitty and whiny until you get food in you."

"Mmh." Dean nuzzled into Travis's sideburn. "Shut up and enjoy the hug, asshole."

"Shitass."

Still, Travis snuggled into Dean's chest, turning to press a kiss to his cheek. Dean stiffened, but only very slightly, feeling a hell of a lot more at ease with the situation and more willing to accept affection.

"You ever kiss a guy before?"

"I kissed you," Dean pointed out. "That kinda counts."

"I mean knowing he was a guy at the time."

Dean pulled back, squinting blearily at Travis. "Are you asking if I want to make out?"

"Dunno. Do you?" Travis shrugged. "I mean, I'm not gonna lie, I've still got a hell of a lot of dumb teenage girl feelings about you, and you got a hell of a lot hotter since you last were in town. I'd be more'n happy to do whatever."

Dean considered this, sucking his teeth thoughtfully as he stared off into the distance just over Travis's left ear.

"If you don't wanna, that's cool too."

"Yeah. Not really... not there yet. You know?"

"No big. S'cool."

Silence stretched between them for a long time, Dean still wrapped around Travis until they heard a car come across the bridge and crunch into the gravel by the side of the road. Someone got out, and there was the sound of an overexcited dog.

Travis stood first, extricating himself from Dean's arms and stretching awkwardly. "We should probably head back. Sam might be home by now."

"Yeah. Guess so."

The pair scrabbled up the bank to the road and gave the woman with the pit mix a friendly nod before crossing the bridge and the road, walking much closer together than they had on the way down. A lot of the stress had eased from them both. The atmosphere between them had grown much friendlier, and Travis didn't shoot Dean wary looks every few minutes like he had been.

This was nice, Dean thought. This was doable.


	14. Daze of our Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leads are dwindling, and time is starting to become a factor.

Sam watched Dean and Travis for a few moments, a faint smile quirking at the corner of his mouth. They were on the couch, practically spooning, empty bags of snacks and containers of half-eaten leftovers piled around them on the table and floor. Travis had a fat smudge of Cheeto dust on his face, probably from Dean, whose fingers were coated with the stuff. They still smelled faintly of pot, but had at least burned a stick of incense to over up the blunt reek that had seeped into their clothes.  


Travis was the first to awake, rolling forward and nearly falling off the couch. Dean, surprisingly, slept on, shifting slightly to get more comfortable.  


"Back on good terms?"  


"Fffuck. I gotta piss," Travis rasped, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. "Hi Sam. Promise I didn't take your brother's gay virginity yet."  


"Yet," Sam chuckled. "You have plans to?"  


"If he's down with 'em, yeah. How'd the whole interviewing thing go? Get any new leads?"  


"Pffff. Eliminated a couple, at least. We're down to the weird racist guy, two pizzeria owners, and the possibility that maybe the demon did its thing all on its own."  


"Mm. I guess any progress is good progress." Travis stood, shuffling stiffly to the bathroom, reaching up and ruffling Sam's hair as he passed him. "Thanks, man. I really appreciate you working on this."  


Sam shrugged, ducking his head slightly and grinning. "Least we can do for a friend, right? I mean, you'd do the same."  


"Psch. I'd run like hell like the giant fuckin' chicken I am. You'd be up a creek if I had to fuck around with demons for your asses."  


"Thanks," was Sam's sarcastic response. "You're a real pal."  


He sat, pulling off his suit jacket and loosening his tie. Dean muttered softly in his sleep, but did not wake- weeks of catnapping had finally caught up to him, it seemed. At least this wasn't something out to get _them_ specifically- there was urgency, sure, but they could rest easy knowing that the focus wasn't on them for once.  


"Any idea of when you're gonna find who did it?"  


"No idea. Could be weeks. How's your arm feeling?"  


"Marginally less shitty. I can move it a little without screaming, at least." There was the sound of a toilet flushing and water running, and Travis padded back out. "Want a beer or something?"  


"Nah, little early in the day for me."  


"Coke?"  


"Sure. No ice."  


"Gross."  


"You're gross." Sam retorted, sitting back and rubbing his forehead. "Unfortunately what most people don't realize about hunting is that it mostly takes _ages_ to get a lead, and seeing something through to the end can take months depending on what you're tracking."  


Travis grunted. "Better not take months. I might be in jail by then if someone catches on that Mom's not around anymore."  


"We've got you covered, Travis. Don't worry."  


"You keep saying that, but I don't see any action. What are you gonna do, take me with you?"  


"That's kinda the plan, yeah. We've got plenty of friends who'd be more than willing to take you in. Hell, Bobby could probably use the help around the house once you're healed."  


"Scuse me if that doesn't sound totally ideal." He passed Sam his soda. "I'm not the most patient guy on earth. Spending possibly months tracking down some douchebag only to have to run off and abandon my entire life so I don't get stuck in prison with Large Marge doesn't exactly sound like my kind of party."  


"Dunno what else to tell you, man. We're kind of limited here- as much as I'd like to, I can't wave a wand and make it all okay. The only way to keep you safe is to make you disappear. I mean, you can definitely continue your studies, and Bobby can train you up so you're safer in the future. He's one of the best there is, and believe me when I say I wish I could just make things magically awesome for you. Unfortunately, if anyone investigates these fires thoroughly, you're the number one suspect. You're not gonna come out of this smelling like roses, no matter how innocent you actually _are._ "  


Travis growled softly under his breath. "Fucking sucks. There's no justice in this goddamn world, if you ask me."  


"No shit," Sam said softly, sipping his drink. "If there was, we wouldn't even be here."  


A long, awkward silence stretched between the two of them as the realization slowly dawned on Travis.   


"Oh god, dude, I'm sorry, I wasn't fuckin' thinking-"  


"Hey, it's okay. Right now the focus is on..." Sam blinked, then squeezed his eyes shut briefly.  


"You okay?"  


"Just got really tired all of a sudden." He winced, rubbing his eyes, then took another swig of soda. "Is this caffiene-free?"  


"Nah, I don't buy that shit. You sleep okay last night?"  


"Ish. Don't get hit this hard this fast, usually."  


Travis gently placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Maybe it's catching up to you. It's been a rough couple days. Dean's still sawing logs, maybe you should grab a quick nap."  


"Mmf. Maybe." Sam gave a jaw-cracking yawn, slowly getting to his feet. "Are you gonna be okay?"  


"Yeah. I'll hold down the fort, you go crash." Travis smiled gently up at his friend. "Right now nothing's going on, so we're safe. I'll wake you or Dean up if I need you."  


Sam sleepily returned the smile, shuffling off to the guest room as he unbuttoned his dress shirt. "Thanks. I really appreciate it."  


Travis bustled around the kitchen, tidying vaguely until he heard a heavy thump.  


"Sam?"  


He peeked into the guest room- Sam hadn't quite made it to the bed before collapsing, very contentedly asleep.  


"Shit."  


It took a few seconds of maneuvering to get Sam in a position where Travis could shove him onto the bed with only one good arm. Still, persistence paid off, and soon Sam was shoeless and shirtless, tucked awkwardly into a bed a few inches too short for him.  


"Jesus, kid. You used to be a shrimp," Travis panted, smoothing Sam's bangs. He padded off down the hall and into the kitchen. "Now let's see..."  


Sleeping pills- he'd left them on the counter. He pocketed the bottle, dumping out the soda Sam had been drinking. Thank fuck they were still fast-acting when ground up and sprinkled in soda. Both Sam and Dean would be out for at least another four hours.  


He quietly took the keys from the jacket Sam had left draped over the chair, then pulled on his coat and slid silently out the front door, leaving the Winchesters to slumber. John's journal was in his pocket.  


 _This is a terrible idea_ , he thought to himself as he coasted the Impala out of the driveway and a ways down the hill before starting the engine.


	15. Reveille

"Up and at 'em, kids!"

Travis burst into the house, the door swinging open with a slam, jarring the china in the cupboards and making Dean jump awake.

"I got our lead, I know who done it, let's wake the fuck up and move the fuck out before we miss our chance! Come on, Sleeping Beauty."

He tossed the car keys to Dean, who caught them, still not totally comprehending what was going on.

"Did you take my car?"

"Yeah, had a few errands to run, and you and Sam were both dead to the world." Travis huffed slightly.

"You took my fucking car."

"I filled her tank and gave her a good wash while I was out."

"You son of a bitch, you took my _fucking_ car." Dean glowered at Travis, the muscles in his jaw twitching.

"Yeah. I did. If you two hadn't been goddamn comatose I wouldn't have had to. Now come on, I found our guy!" He bounced on the balls of his feet, practically vibrating with nervous energy. "We gotta get him, Dean, _please,_ just yell at me later or something because if we don't take him down..."

Sam stumbled out of the guest room, still groggy. "What the hell?"

"Travis says he found our guy."

"How?"

"Fucking magic is how. You hunt enough ghosts in the area, people tend to tell you shit a little more quickly than if you're an outsider. One of the Sommers brothers saw one of the pizza dudes in the middle of the night a while back smoochin' all up on some guy at the stoplight. Said the other guy disappeared after."

"So he's got a secret boyfriend or something. Big deal."

Travis cocked an eyebrow at Dean, who was glowering at him with the kind of venom only reserved for the worst sort of people. "Take that ugly look off your face, Losechester. Sure seemed to be a big deal for you. Anyhow, dude's happily married with kids. Kinda doubt he's got anything going on on the down-low. I'm thinking demon deal."

"Demon deal?"

"Yeah. You never ran across this before?"

Sam shrugged, yawning. "Only in lore, and only briefly. There's not a lot of people who're willing to do that kind of thing. We know it exists, but... so far haven't really run into anyone who's done it."

"That you know of."

Dean snorted, heading off to get a cup of coffee. "Still doesn't prove a damn thing."

"It's a lead. It's a fucking lead. We can at least goddamn follow up on it a little." Travis turned beseeching eyes up to Sam. _"Please."_

The corner of Sam's mouth twitched slightly as he mentally measured Travis's words. He still felt like something was off, but it was more than they'd gotten out of the research and interviews they'd done, and by all rights he _should_ at least look into the tip. Even if it lead nowhere, it was something to check out.

"I think we should check it out," he said at long last, making Dean curse under his breath. "But this better justify running off without us."

Travis nodded slowly, rubbing at his hurt shoulder.

Dean chugged his first mug of coffee, then poured another, still fuming over the theft of the car, no matter how temporary it had been. More than that, Travis hadn't trusted in their abilities, hadn't trusted in him. Hadn't he promised to keep her- him, whatever- safe? Even if shit changed, Dean at least tried to keep promises to people he cared about. Everyone else could go screw, and he was starting to feel like maybe Travis could start edging over to that category, no matter how soft they'd gotten over each other in the past. Who the hell stole a man's car?

A small voice in the back of his mind, however, reminded him of just how badly he'd hurt when he'd lost his mother, how totally consumed with revenge his father was, how he would be more than happy to destroy whoever was responsible. That voice called him a hypocrite, a douchebag, a smug sack of shit more concerned with a car- albeit the car- than doing the right thing. Dean quietly squashed that voice.

"I'm surprised you came back at all," Dean growled, bumping Travis's good shoulder harshly while Sam shuffled off to get dressed. "Why the hell didn't you take care of it on your own if you're so intent on doing this without us?"

That earned a flinch, and Dean's gut twisted when he could see a remnant of Dana in Travis's hurt expression.

"Didn't feel right not to fill you in," was Travis's quiet response. "We're a team, right? I just couldn't stand waiting anymore."

"You need to learn the meaning of 'team,'" spat Dean, and Travis flinched again.


	16. Gimme a Slice

    "Are you absolutely positive that that's the guy?"

    Travis huffed slightly, breath fogging the filthy window of the old Gulf station they were camped out in.  Next door was the ugly cinderblock mess that was the last stand of the pizza places, with a couple cars in the church lot across the street to keep from having to back out onto 390 blind.  It was lit up for business, but still not a lot of customers.  The owner- a silver-haired man who once had been powerfully built but had gone to seed- was outside salting the walk in preparation for incoming snow expected during the night.

    "May god strike me down if I'm lying," he murmured.  "That's the guy.  The Sommers brothers don't fuckin' jerk you around."

    Dean closed his eyes, shaking his head.  "I really don't want to do this."

    "Then fucking don't."

    He jerked back, staring at Travis in surprise.

    "I'm serious, Dean.  If you've got a problem with me taking out the guy who pretty much directly murdered my mom, then fucking go home.  I don't want you in my way if you're gonna give me shit for getting a little justice," Travis spat.  "You should fucking know how this feels."

    "Calm down.  The last thing we need is for you going off half-cocked," Sam soothed, stepping between Dean and Travis.  "We don't know your sources.  We weren't there with you.  We're just worried that maybe you're going on bad information that you're just trusting because you're angry and not thinking straight."

    "It's good info," snarled Travis.

    "We don't know that."

    Travis set his jaw, puffing up his chest, his good hand knotted into a fist and quivering in rage.  He stared down Sam as best he could, rising to his tip-toes to get as close to eye level as possible, his chin lifted in defiance.

    "Kid, I'm gonna punch you in the damn teeth if you try and stop me."

    Dean let out a barking laugh, swaggering closer.  "I'd like to see you fucking try, Shorty."

    A long, tense thread of a moment stretched between them, so tight it could snap at the slightest disturbance as Travis and Dean sized each other up for a fight, glaring around Sam's broad shoulders.  Dean had two good arms and better reach, while Travis had the weight advantage and a lower center of gravity.  Each one knew it would be a pisser of a brawl, and neither one was willing to back down.

    "Guys, this is the exact opposite of what we need right now."

    Sam's words cut through the fog of testosterone and rage, forcing Dean and Travis to glance away from each other, both of them silently sulking and somehow relieved.

    "Now come on.  Travis, you have to admit, we have a point.  If you go off and kill the wrong guy, we're not going to help you out of it.  That'd be your fuckup, and your problem to deal with."

    "I'm telling you, it's the right guy."

    "Still, Dean and I don't know that for sure.  Now, we can talk to him, find out for ourselves, and _then_ let you go all Inigo Montoya on him, or you can ignore us, shoot him, and we let you deal with the aftermath."

    "But-"

    "Travis.  We're just making sure you're not making a huge mistake.  We're doing this for you," Sam assured him quietly.  "Right, Dean?"

    "Yeah.  Sure."  Dean's nostrils flared slightly as he glanced out the window at the old guy, now leaning on his shovel.  "Anyone else smell rotten eggs?"

    Sam swore.  "Dean, seriously, lay off the cheese-"

    "No," Travis choked, eyes stinging from the stench.  "That's sulfur!"

    A slim, broad-shouldered figure stood in the pale yellow glow of the pizza sign, the sliver hair at his temples glimmering in the light.  His suit was dark, well-tailored, expensive.  A cigarette hung all casual from his lips, smoking into the night like his breath and the faint embers that followed his footsteps as he sauntered casually into the pizzeria.

    Dean's eyes neary bugged out of his skull.  "Demon?"

    "Looks like," Sam breathed.  "Shit."

    The trio crept nearly silently out of the Gulf, stationing themselves just outside the open back door, listening to the low sound of voices from the front, the old guy working up into a fine froth, judging by the sound of him.

    "What do you want?  It hasn't been-"

    "Calm yerself, son.  There's been a few hiccups along the way."  The demon had the faintest of long-off-the-boat Irish accents, and a voice like the bottom of a whiskey-soaked ashtray.  "Fella who was on yer case bit it.  Just came to let you know I'll be taking over fer now.  Boss don't like leaving contracts unfulfilled.  Hand me a slice of the linguica, will you?"

    Sam and Dean were too distracted to notice, but Travis had gone pale, eyes wide.

    "Are you almost finished?  It's been three years into my contract and I still have competition!"

    "Take it easy.  We're on it.  If people wouldn't keep starting up new places, we wouldn't have to keep burnin' em down, would we?  Anyhow, we got it all pinned on this kid, dumb as a rock, ain't worth much.  Nobody'll touch you."

    As one, the hunters slid into the dimly lit back room, listening closely as they tried to blend in with the enormous packages of flour and vegetables stacked around haphazardly.

    "Ye got nothing to worry about.  Just keep breathing for another seven years and yer good."  He chuckled like the crackle of ashes.  "In fact, that might be the most difficult part."

    "I was given ten years!"

    Travis quietly removed the safety from his gun, slipping into the bright lights of the kitchen as he skulked around the prep tables, keeping low and out of sight.

    "Oh, I know.  But accidents happen, hm?  Hell- no wonder ye needed to sell yer soul.  This crust's like feckin' cardboard."

    Sam and Dean hung back a few steps, letting Travis take the lead.

    "Accidents?  But ten years!  You ought to protect me for-"

    "Did ye put that in yer contract?"

    "N-no..."

    He'd made it to just beside the doorway to the front.  Travis's breath ached in his lungs as he waited for an opportune moment.

    "Then what happens, happens, son.  Just keep breathing as long as ye can.  Blech.  This pizza's trash.  Gimme a garlic knot."

    That was the moment.  Dean looked away as Travis slid smoothly into the front, expression blank as he calmly blew a hole in the old man's head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my buddy Rae for letting me borrow her character Claude to cameo as the demon. Love that fucker.


	17. We don't need no water

_Promise me, though, no matter what happens to me, you'll save me, okay?_

Dean watched as Travis shivered in shock, curled up on the passenger seat of the Impala. There was a sliver of skull in his hair, a bit of brain, but he wasn't about to bring it up. Poor fucker had had enough of a bad night already.

_Travis holds the gun steady, even as the old man drops, the counter and register before him painted red and meaty and wet. His face is pale, the old man's nonexistent. And the demon fucking grins._

On a whim, Dean slid his jacket off, placing it awkwardly around Travis's shoulders in lieu of a shock blanket. Sam reached over the seat, helping to arrange it while reassuring his friend that yes, everything was going to be okay.

Dean wasn't too sure about that, but whatever made Travis stop freaking out was a lie worth telling.

_"About damn time. Thought ye'd get him ages ago." The cigarette he's smoking is ruined by gore, and he tosses it aside, screwing another coffin-nail between his lips. He sparks it with a flick of his fingers. It stinks like sulfur for a moment, drowning out the smell of bad pizza and cheap beer. "Out past yer bedtime, eh boys?"_

Sam smoothed Travis's hair while surreptitiously removing some of the larger bits of face and bone and flesh. Ever since they'd stopped off to see Travis, he had had the feeling that something awful like this was going to go down; this whole year had been one bad experience after another, and things only seemed to be getting worse.

It was amazing how small a ball Travis could make of himself in that big seat. He was pale-faced, wide-eyed, utterly silent save for the thick sound of swallowing down bile every few moments.

_The demon cocks the faintest of eyebrows at the Winchesters' drawn guns._

_"Ain't no reason to be so hostile. Wasn't I the most marvelous of distractions? Should be thanking me for that."_

_He takes a casual draw from his cigarette, glancing at the meaty mess on the counter and floor. Sam and Dean still have their weapons trained._

_"I'll even tidy up, how's that? But oh, boys, better run before the Keystone Kops pull in, or ye'll be fingered harder than a cheerleader on prom night."_

Dean still couldn't get over the demon, how totally unconcerned he had been. He glanced over at Travis again, clapping him gently on the thigh. The corner of his mouth twitched down slightly as the other man didn't respond.

_Travis's gun drops, along with his body- he's on his knees and painting the old man's corpse a lovely shade of puke._

_"Pick yer boy up, get his sorry ass outta here. Feckin' amateurs. Should burn the place down with you little shits in it."_

Sam glanced up at Dean. "We should get him to Bobby's. There's no guarantee he'll get off scott free, especially if someone notices his mom isn't around."

"Yeah. I know."

The faint glow of the burning pizzeria behind them illuminated the car, reflecting into Dean's face from the rearview. He angled the mirror, meeting Sam's eyes briefly.

It was the closest thing they had to conversation for the rest of the ride to Travis's place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW that took a while to update, sorry, semester ate me, but finals are now over and i can spend the next few weeks farting out the rest of this thing and maybe writing a brief semi pornographic sequel at some point. praise be unto satan, i will finish this fic if it is the last thing i do


	18. If not by faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laying low in Cleveland.

Dean hated driving through Pennsylvania.

He was seasick from the potholes, most of which couldn't be dodged, and driven to distraction from the neverending road construction, making an already interminably long ride across Pennsylvania even more unbearable. They'd hit Ohio by nightfall, but traffic had slowed to a crawl once more near Cleveland, and he was ready to gnaw through the steering wheel in frustration.

"Dude, Dean, let's just find a motel," Sam groaned, his head lolled back as he stretched as best he could in the front seat. "Just get the hell off I-80 and we'll figure out a back way to Bobby's. _Please_. I'm _dying_ here."

Travis, who had been until now unnaturally quiet, nodded, clearing his throat.

"I could really use a break and some real food," he rasped, voice phlegmy. "And some sleep."

Both of the brothers glanced back at him, a little surprised.

"Another province heard from," Dean muttered. "All right. We'll find a place to crash."

It took some searching, but they finally found a place to stay- an ancient hotel in Cleveland that had been converted mostly into senior housing for aging Christian Scientists, but still let out a few rooms as a B&B. The Alcazar was still stately, with polished moroccan tile in the foyer and formal dark wood furnishings, but the beds were worn and the windows were painted shut, and once in a while one could hear befuddled, demented muttering from one of its residents losing their way down the carbon-copy halls.

Sam held up the keys as they approached the doors to their suite. "Okay. Travis, you're not staying alone tonight. Dean, you want to be on duty, or should I?"

Travis didn't protest as Dean grumbled out his assent, grabbing a key.

"I'll keep an eye on him. You go do whatever it is you do when you've got a room to yourself. Take it easy."

"All right. You need me, I'm right next door. And Dean?"

"Yeah?"

" _Please,_ no Busty Asian Beauties, all right? Travis is traumatized enough as it is."

Travis let out a derisive snort. "Who the hell do you think introduced him to that godawful skin rag? I saw more of his ween in high school than any doctor ever will. Trust me when I say I'm used to it. Right, Princess?"

He nudged Dean in the ribs before heading into the room, leaving Dean to give Sam a faintly ill, exasperated look before following him in.

"Do you _have_ to do that?"

"Do what?" Travis had already pulled his shirt off. "Fuck, twin beds? Weak."

There was a manic tone to his words, like he was trying to jitter out of his skin- now that the shock had worn off, he was jazzed, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he bustled around settling in.

Dean flopped down on his bed, kicking off his boots. "The emasculation thing. Really?"

"Psch. You thought it was cute when we were banging." Off came Travis's socks, and he hucked them over to Dean's side of the room, one landing on his chest. "And anyhow, you got so much prettier the past couple years. You really are a pretty princess."

Dean wrinkled his nose, tossing the sock aside. "Mnh. Hey, uh, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'm cool." Trav's voice wavered slightly as he grabbed a pair of ratty pajama pants from his backpack. "Just kind of freaked, you know? I'm a fucking murderer on the lam now and it's weirding me out."

The bustle was forced, that much was obvious to Dean. He stood, padding over to his friend, and- despite his personal reservations- grabbed him in a hug, forcing him to be still for a few moments.

"Fucking breathe, okay? You need to take the time to calm the hell down." Dean's face was mashed into Travis's hair, muffling his voice. "Sam and I have your back. We've got a safe place for you to go. We're gonna drop you off at Bobby's place- we told you about Bobby, remember- and you're gonna be okay. Nobody's gonna find you. You can drop off the map, finish up that degree you were working on, and move the hell on with your life."

Travis went still, accepting the hug for a few moments before returning it, relaxing very slightly.

"I'm scared as hell," he murmured, his words barely audible against Dean's shoulder. "Christ. Would it be too weird if we shoved the beds together, because I don't know how I'm gonna manage sleeping alone tonight."

When Dean stiffened, he clarified:

"No sex, no romantic bullshit, just... I need a warm body next to me and you're familiar ground."

"Yeah, that'd be fine." Dean rubbed Travis's shoulders gently. "We can do that."

"Just know if you shark me in your sleep, I'm gonna mock you forever." Travis pulled away, grabbing the bedposts and shoving the twins together with a little more enthusiasm than was necessary.

Dean joined him, surreptitiously glancing over Travis's body now that he was down to his pajamas. He had to admit, the man looked damn good- the scars across his chest were a little jarring, more for how tidy they were than anything. He was thick, barrelly and muscular, with a dusting of soft, dark hair on his chest and belly that made Dean's fingers itch a little, wanting to touch it. True, he still retained a little of a pear-shape, a little off-kilter now that he didn't have a frankly prodigious rack to balance out hips that would never be anything but wide. Still, he looked good.

"Keep staring, I might do a trick," Travis growled. Dean realized he'd been standing there a little dumbly, the bedsheets gripped loosely in his hands as he'd paused in the middle of arranging the linens.

"Sorry," was his too-quick reply. "Just hadn't gotten a chance to really _look_ at you. Uh, did those hurt?"

"What, the mastectomy? Only sorta, I mean they kept me on some pretty sweet drugs while I recovered. Spent the whole time high as fuck on a beach in Florida. Worst part was getting the drains out."

"Shit, sounds pretty sweet." An awkward smile quirked at Dean's lips. "Florida, huh?"

"Yeah. About two, three thousand dollars cheaper than staying in Pennsylvania, and the results're better. Wish you'd been there, you woulda had the time of your life watching my stoned ass stumble around with sunburned nipples."

They both laughed, the tension easing considerably as they finally both relaxed.

"I keep waiting to see that you've changed," Dean admitted. "It's just weirding me out seeing you looking and sounding totally different but acting the same."

"Well, I am mostly the same. Little mellower now that I finally look the way I want." He bumped Dean with a hip. "And I don't look that different, do I? I mean, I don't think so."

"The beard throws me a little. I mean, it looks _good_ , but it's... it's weird."

"So's your skinny ass getting ludicrously hot, but you don't hear me complaining. Seriously, when the hell did you grow shoulders worth a damn?"

Dean could feel his cheeks redden as he grinned, preening slightly. "Ludicrously hot, huh?"

"Dude, you know you're hot shit. Hell, you thought you were hot shit even when you were a stick figure with a weird melon head and bad hair. This isn't news to you."

"Well, excuse me for liking to hear my ex thinks I'm not just hot, but _ludicrously_ hot. That's an adjective I don't get to hear much." Dean skinned out of his jeans, getting ready for bed. "And I never had a weird melon head!"

"You did! You fucking did, it was weird and huge and you didn't have any shoulders to speak of so you looked like a fucking lollipop in an outsize leather jacket. And you still thought you were hot shit when your only redeeming qualities were your perky ass, Disney Princess eyes, and DSLs." Travis craned his neck. "At least the ass is still worth ogling. I was worried you'd scratched it all off like your dad seemed to have done with his."

A vague expression of horror crossed Dean's face as he turned to Travis. "You looked at my dad's ass?"

"Damn right I did. I wanted to guesstimate whether or not you'd be worth groping if you ever came back." A friendly smirk as Travis gave Dean's rear a smack, making him dance back.

"Hands off the goods!"

"Fine, fine. Christ. I need a fucking Ambien if I'm gonna sleep at all. Feel like I'm gonna jump out of my skin."

As Travis padded off to the bathroom, Dean settled in, stashing his customary arsenal under his pillow and settling in as comfortably as he could. There was a bedspring poking up just slightly in the small of his back, but otherwise the bed was doable, and the added space from pushing the two of them together made it much more bearable.

Travis returned a few moments later, crawling under the covers and curling up.

"Hn. You _have_ changed. Usually I was the little spoon," Dean murmured.

"Yeah, not so much into dominance games anymore. Comes with the whole 'being secure in myself' thing." He sighed. "Left the sleeping pills at home like an idiot. Sorry if I'm antsy tonight."

"Hey, it's cool. Just try and relax a little. You've had a rough week."

They lay there in silence for a long while, Dean watching and feeling Travis's breathing slowly ease until the other man was clearly asleep. This was more familiar territory. He could compare notes from the Dana he remembered to the man lying beside him, just curious as to how much hormones and surgery and time had done to him.

His smell was different, that was for sure. Yeah, he still used that lavender bodywash, but the underlying smell of Travis was very different from what he'd remembered from Dana. He was a little muskier, a little stronger. Definitely smelled like any other guy he'd known.

He slid an arm around Travis's belly, pleased to know his body hair was just as silky as it looked. That was something he didn't think he would enjoy, but it felt pretty natural to brush his fingers through it and feel the softness of Travis's belly fat beneath his hand. He was glad that he hadn't lost a ton of weight or gotten ripped; he'd loved feeling Dana squish when he'd hugged her, and while Travis had hardened up slightly, that squish was still there, still comforting, still close and warm.

Dean smiled faintly, settling back down and closing his eyes. He still didn't feel totally comfortable, but he was coming to terms with the fact that yeah, he was considering kissing a dude, and yeah, he was basically okay with that.

He brushed his lips against the back of Travis's neck experimentally, and felt a deep sense of relief that the world didn't burst into hellfire around him.

"You know, if you want to make out, you could just ask," came the sleepy response.

"Thought you were asleep."

"Eh. Ish." Travis rolled over to face Dean, running his fingers through the taller man's short, bristly hair. "Dozing off a little."

"Mm." Dean leaned slightly into the gentle touch. "Man, don't take this weird, but would it be okay if I kissed you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it would be, so long as you're not expecting it to bring back old me or anything. Then I'd have to deliver a swift kick to the self esteem."

"Not expecting anything of the sort," Dean reassured him, ruching down into the covers so they were eye-to-eye. "Just kinda curious. Never kissed anyone with a beard before."

"Then give it a go. Promise it won't eat you."

They kissed.

It honestly was almost a little lackluster- there were no explosions of light or sudden instances of the world falling into perfect harmony. Travis's breath tasted like toothpaste and mouthwash and faintly of the Big Mac he'd had for dinner, and the soft scratch of his beard was a little uncomfortable against Dean's stubble, to be honest. Some part of Dean's brain was still searching for traces of Dana, but he shoved that aside.

Travis may have been Dana once, but now he wasn't, and there was no point in trying to ressurect her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl i listened to a lot of The Mountain Goats while writing this
> 
> you should listen to them too


	19. Then By The Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They gon' frick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just as a note, i'm using terms for travis and his anatomy that i would use for myself. i realize not all trans men identify with the terms i personally use, and some may find them triggering or unpleasant.
> 
> that having been said, let's have some gratuitous porking.

"God, I missed this," Travis breathed, rolling to straddle Dean and leaning down for another kiss. "You're so fucking beautiful Dean, I swear to god."

Dean writhed under Travis's hips, grinning up at him. "Beautiful, huh?"

"Yeah. Jesus." Travis pulled off Dean's shirt, trailing kisses down his neck and shoulders. "If I do anything you're not down with, lemme know, okay? Christ. I dunno what the hell I want to do with you anymore."

"You wouldn't happen to have that little purple thing still, would you?" Hope beyond hope. That little purple thing had awakened him to a whole new world of orgasms.

"Oh, you mean the- no, shit, I left all my toys at home. _Fuck_." He rolled off of Dean and groaned. "Shit. You're still into pegging?"

"Yeah. S'not mandatory, though. You're about the only person I've done it with anyhow." Dean reached over and traced Travis's scars. "I'm cool with whatever."

"Good. It's just that was like, a couple hundred dollars worth of _stuff_ I left..."

"Don't worry about it. I'll spot you for the replacements." He kissed the center of Travis's chest. "We don't have to do anything tonight."

"Don't _have_ to. Just wanna." He stroked Dean's hair, grinning at the look in his eyes. "Looks like you wanna, too."

"Hell yeah I do." Dean surprised himself a little with the response. "I mean, yeah. I guess I'm a little curious. I've never been with a guy before, least not that I knew was a guy at the time. And... well, I _missed_ you."

Another kiss, and Dean melted against Travis, settling against his warmth, enjoying how his belly squished beneath him, and how easily he settled between his thighs. He pet Travis's soft, pale sides, listening to the other man's breath hitch as his fingers passed over a ticklish spot. This felt good, and right, and normal.

Dean wondered- just what, after all this time, was so scary about being with a man? He'd spent years constantly proving and re-proving his masculinity, terrified of being seen as gay or queer or something other than entirely heterosexual. Now here he was, totally at ease in a lip-lock with a beardy guy who looked like he threw around trees for fun.

He kissed down the swell of Travis's belly, pausing at the curve of his hips.

"Mind if I take off your pajamas? They're a little in the way."

"Go for it," Travis breathed, licking his lips, eyes wide. "Christ. You look like a fucking porn star right now."

Dean's tongue flicked out to lick up to the other man's bellybutton as he slowly tugged off the ratty plaid pajama pants. Travis's bush was surprisingly neatly trimmed, unlike what Dean had remembered. He kissed the inside of one thigh, then the other, before glancing back up at Travis.

"You sure you're okay with this? I know you were a little weird about people touching your junk back in the day."

"Yes, I'm okay with this. Now lick my fucking clit, Losechester, or I swear to god I'm gonna throw you down and ride your face like a goddamn mechanical bull."

" _Someone's_ enthusiastic." Dean smirked, gently stroking the backs of his fingers across Travis's labia. "Tempted to tease you a little more, see how riled up I can get you."

"Mother _fucker_."

Dean got down to business, slipping his tongue between the chubby lips, spreading them with his fingers so he could lip at the thick, fat clit doing its damned best to stand up and salute. That was different. Still, anatomy was anatomy, and Dean did what came naturally.

He sucked and nibbled on the dark inner labia- one thing he'd always liked was how they stuck out, how the little bumps felt on his tongue- and lead with his nose as he left fluttery little licks up the pinkest, warmest places he could find. Testosterone had given Travis a muskier scent and taste, but Dean found it surprisingly pleasant, humming under his breath as he nudged that monster of a clitoris with his nose, nuzzling slightly. It slid between his lips, laying thick and warm on his tongue as he bobbed, hollowing his cheeks and sucking like a cheerleader on prom night.

"Sh-it," Travis moaned, his hips cocking and jerking upwards, humping against Dean's full, pink lips. "Keep sucking, _please_ keep sucking..."

That was an order Dean readily obeyed. He paused a moment to slide the flat of his tongue over the sensitive head, making his partner shiver and jerk again, then went back to sucking, burying his face in the thick fatty pad of Travis's mons. He felt Travis's hands scrabble for a grip on his hair, finally settling for the sheets on either side of him as he took him as deep as anatomy permitted, suckling contentedly and gently petting his thighs, feeling him pulse on his tongue.

"Dean, fuck, I'm gonna cum, I swear to god-"

He rode it out as Travis bucked beneath him, smirking to himself as he licked up the wetness from between his thighs.

"Jesus, baby, you've got the tongue of some kind of sex god."

Now that was a compliment.

"Glad I could be of cervix," he snickered, crawling up for a kiss. "Happy?"

"Make another pun like that and you're sleeping in the bathtub." Travis snorted, playfully shoving him away. "Dork."

Dean fell back, laughing as he pulled the smaller man with him, tugging him back in for that kiss. "After all that? God, you really are an ungrateful piece of shit."

They playwrestled for a while, laughing and happy, the pressures of the past week melting away for the time being. It felt good, Dean thought, being able to relax and just be with someone, to fall back into old habits and take comfort in them. It wasn't long before Travis pinned him, the other man straddling his hips, Dean's cock pressing gently against a pale, hairy thigh.

"You wanna?"

Travis's eyebrows raised slightly, and he grinned, rolling his hips. "You bet your perky little ass I do. Get out that condom- I'm clean, but god only knows what the fuck you've stuck that thing in over the years."

"I'm clean," Dean grumbled good-naturedly, but he obeyed, reaching for his pants and pulling out his wallet.

"So you say. I bet you've got a cursed dick or some shit. Some kinda horrifying ghostly venereal disease. Syphilis of the soul, maybe." Travis snatched the condom away, opening it up and giving Dean's cock a few strokes. "Forgot how cute your junk was. You still squirm when I do this?"

He pressed at Dean's perineum, making him arch and moan, toes curling. If he could have gotten any harder, he would have.

"Oh _hell_ yes," Travis breathed, rolling the condom on as Dean lay there panting. "I'm gonna ride you like I _stole_ you."

"Promise?"

"Pinky fucking swear. Christ. I haven't done this in a while. Mighta regrown my cherry for all I know." Travis slowly lowered himself down onto Dean, hissing slightly as he squeezed down involuntarily. " _Fuck_ , you've got a nice curve."

Dean ran a hand down Travis's belly, breath catching as he sank into him. "Thanks," he murmured. "I get that a lot."

"Slut," was the affectionate response. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard your eyes cross."

Travis began moving his hips, riding Dean slowly at first, his breath a series of hisses and groans as he reacclimated to having someone inside him. It occured to him in a hazy thought that yeah, this was the first time they'd ever had what could in any way be considered typical tab-A slot-B sex. Weird, in a way, but holy shit was this anything but typical for him. He bent forward, finding a new angle as Dean propped himself up on a few pillows.

"Rub my clit while I ride you- I don't wanna be doing _all_ the work here."

Dean obliged with a smile, leaning up for a kiss. This was a lot easier, a lot nicer than the last time they'd fucked, when it was all sweat and pounding and desperate grabbing in a teenage froth of hormones and cum. This was slow. This was good.

"Fucking missed you," he breathed into the kiss, making Travis smile.

"You missed fucking me, more like." He squeezed down on him, making Dean growl. "Admit it, you jerked yourself stupid imagining this."

"Yeah, but you had better tits in my imagination."

"Pff. I _had_ tits in your imagination, full stop. I'm just a little sad I can't suffocate you with them anymore." Another kiss.

"Shut the hell up and fuck me, will you?"

Travis's grin seemed to light up the room as he rocked his hips, moaning as a lucky stroke hit his G-spot. This was so much better than idle exploration with a dildo. Having another party involved was more fun than he'd remembered.

It wasn't long before they were both lost to the heat and friction and slow tingling pleasure of imminent orgasm. Their kisses grew messier, the wet slap of flesh on flesh became more rhythmic and faster with each moment. Their vision went a little hazy as they clung to one another, grinding and moaning and jerking as they tried to beat one another to the edge.

Dean came first. One of his thrusts hit just the right spot, Travis clenching just perfectly to set him off, shaking and mouthing over Travis's shoulders as he let out short, almost animal grunts as he lay back, his whole body too tender and sensitive to touch. His left leg twitched involuntarily as Travis bent to lick one of his nipples, making him hiss and pull away.

"Cut me a break," he panted, patting Travis's hip.

"I'm so close, come on, don't leave me hanging!" The smaller man bore down on his cock, face contorted almost painfully as he chased the slow build of his second orgasm of the night.

Dean reached down to stroke his clit between thumb and forefinger, watching breathlessly as Travis rammed his hips forward into his grasp before collapsing on top of him, humping against his hand with rough, helpless little moans.

"Fuck- fuck! Dean, Jesus fucking _Christ_ , oh _god_ -"

Now _that_ was satisfying to hear. A smug little grin lit Dean's face as he wrapped his free arm around Travis's shoulders, still stroking and fingering him gently as he withdrew.

"Holy shit," Travis panted, his forehead pressed against Dean's shoulder. "Sweet fucking mother of god."

"That good, huh?"

"You have no idea." Travis tugged uselessly at the blankets as Dean removed the condom, knotting it and tossing it in the trash. "You're my new favorite sex toy, bar none."

Dean smirked, rolling to let Travis spoon him as they pulled the blankets up over them. Yeah, he was going to sleep in the wet spot, but to be honest, he didn't mind. That was how things had always been done back in high school, and this was just another small reminder of precisely who he was with, and who was in charge.

Regardless of where things went from here, tonight had been entirely worth it.


	20. Restored

"You boys gonna stand there like a pair of fuckin' yahoos, or are you gonna introduce your friend?"

Bobby eyed the trio on his front steps warily as Dean and Sam shifted from foot to foot, looking terribly sheepish.

"Uh... this is Travis. He kinda needs to lay low and disappear for a while."

"He's a friend of ours," Dean added, trying not to blush. "From way back. Please tell me you've got space for him?"

"Yeah, I got space." Bobby squinted down at Travis, who met his eyes more than a little nervously. "You kill somebody, son?"

Travis blanched- he'd been warned Bobby was intimidating, but this was entirely different. Where he'd felt perfectly at ease giving lip to John Winchester back in the day, Bobby Singer commanded _respect._

"Yeah, he did. Come on, Bobby, _please?"_

"Already said I had space, what more do you want? C'mon in. Pardon the mess."

Dean chuckled as he gently pushed against Travis's back, goading him to enter. "Come on. Bobby won't bite. He's a good guy and he'll keep an eye out until it's safe for you to move on."

The house was its customary cluttered self, smelling of herbs, booze, wet dog, and the untold dust of ages layering on old paper. Travis had a hard time taking it all in- the shelves upon shelves of books made his heart thrill a little. He'd heard a lot about the old hunter from Dean and Sam on the way here, but it was different actually seeing the place all this _knowledge_ was archived. Maybe he could offer his services cataloging, digitizing, and organizing it all- after all, it would be a crying shame to miss something useful just because it was buried under a pile of papers in the ass-end of the house.

Then again, if Bobby was like most academics, he had a system, and that system was not to be messed with under pain of dismemberment.

"Dean tells me you've dabbled a little in hunting. You ever think about getting serious about it?"

Travis jerked out of his perusal of a bookshelf. "Uh- yeah, actually. Thought it might be an interesting way to use my degree once I get it. Get into, like, the science behind how stuff works and finding alternatives to the old standards if someone's in a pinch, you know? Plus, I mean, ecology in general is cool; took it as an elective last semester. It'd be interesting to deal with predator-prey interactions with regards to spooky shit, uh, sir."

"Hn," was Bobby's noncommittal reply as the Winchesters hauled in their dufflebags. "Might could use you around here a while so long as you're still going to school. How close are you to your degree?"

"Second semester sophomore, sir." He swallowed hard. "With honors."

"Good. Keep that up. You got any medical crap I oughta know about?"

"Uh- I have two medications I'm on. I brought 'em with me and I've got a few months worth of the one, but I'm gonna have to refill the other in a couple weeks."

"Can probably cover that for you. Anything else?"

"Uh. Periodic testing of liver function and hormone levels for the one med."

Bobby cocked an eyebrow.

"Testosterone injections," Travis clarified quickly. "I, uh, need 'em every week."

"Hn. Yeah, I got a doctor you can see about that." He sniffed, sucking his teeth. "Anyhow, you're crashing in Dean's old room with him. Figure you two'd appreciate the privacy."

Had he been that obvious? Had Dean said something?

"Always figured that boy was a little bent," Bobby continued. "Kick his ass if he breaks your heart."

Awkward. Travis let out a nervous chuckle. "Thanks, uh. Will do. Um, so can I do stuff around here in lieu of paying rent? I'm pretty low on funds right now but I mean, I can do grunt work and some basic bookkeeping, research and stuff."

"Hey Bobby, you scaring him already?" Sam poked his head in the room, grinning.

"Yeah," he called back. "I like this one. You should hang onto him." He turned back to Travis. "Anyhow, don't worry too much about rent. So long's you don't eat me out of house and home and you keep things relatively quiet, I don't give a rat's ass what you do in your free time. Just help me when I need helping and keep your damn grades up."

"Yes, sir."

"And quit with the sir shit."

"Okay, uh. Sure." Travis smiled, still nervous. "I'm gonna head upstairs and unpack, I guess. Call me down if you need me."

"Sure. Welcome aboard, kid." Bobby cracked a smile for the first time since Travis had walked in the place.

"Thanks. Glad to be here."

As Travis climbed the stairs, he let himself breathe again. Nothing bad happened, it seemed Bobby was cool with everything, and if Sam and Dean both trusted him, Travis felt at least marginally more safe here.

He entered the room he assumed was his- Dean was sorting through laundry, trying to figure out what was clean and what wasn't through smell. He gave his ass a pinch as he passed, hauling his own bag up on the bed and pulling it open.

This seemed like a good place to settle in, he thought to himself. Not long-term, of course, and he knew Dean would move on to the next hot item with good legs and nice tits first chance he got. The brothers were set to head back out in two or three days, once all the laundry had been done, ammo restocked, and any mechanical issues the Impala had sustained were fixed up. Then it'd just be Travis and Bobby, working hard and waiting for the next big thing to come up.

He felt his chest squeeze slightly at the thought. Once everything died down enough, he was going to have to get out of here before he got too complacent. It hurt, but this was only meant to be temporary, and besides, he had a limited amount of time left.

Revenge always came at a price.

> _"Ten years, kid," he says, pressing close, his voice like a whiskey-soaked ashtray. "That's all. You sure you want to make this trade just for info? I could kill the fella responsible for you, keep yer hands clean."_
> 
> _"I have to do this," Travis snarls, mashing his lips against the demon's._

It was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a good run! i actually managed to finish a fanfic for the first time, and kept the plot cohesive and the characters relatively in-character, which is also a first!
> 
> thank you for your lovely comments, i've got another two fics in the works, and i'll start posting the minute i work out the kinks in the overall plot for them.


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